I ^ 






Ullinit'ii pj;cfitiJHf^ 



BUASIA in THREE ACTS, 



B Y 



URS. PAUL. BREIflOlVD. 




I 



Copyright secured by the AUTTTO. 



rJJ 



LILIANS PROMISE. 



A DRAn4 \N THREE ACTS. 



BY- 



M^RS. 'PAUL (B(REMOJ^(D. 



The Scene is laid in England at Rockmount Castle. 



1880 r^// 




^^r 



r v/fi»c ^ 



IP? I) 






Lord Alcott, (a widower), - - - - ,-Jged (>() years. 

Hon. Gaston Aleoft, (Jiis son), - - ** £6 

Sir Arthur TharfibuU, young man risiting the 

Castle. 
Lard Ernest Belgrade, young man risifing Ihe 

Castle. 
Ft orence Aleott , nieee to Ijrrd A/cott. aged :!r2 ycair. 
Uliari Aleott, '' " *' " " /<S' 

Mr. Belton , the butler,- - - - - '* /,t) 

Pierre, ( Fren eh), footman, - - - *' /,> 
Lottie, ladies' a'aiting ma i(t, - - - " :Vy 
Mrs. Marsleii, a fisJierman's frido/r. " '.V 
Ton y Marsten , Mrs. Marsten, 's son , : ! 

Tenants, Farmers, etc 



I.!LIAi\'S PROMISf^ 



ACT. 1st. 



St:ene I st.--A handsomely furnished parlor. Windows opening i. pon a ter- 
racf-. Steps descending to a garden. The doors throwri open. When the cl-i- 
t.-iin ises Belton and Lottie are en the stage. Lottie, duit biufh in hand, dtit- 
ing the pictures on the walls and arranging the furniture, whiie Bdton pon^p- 
ousl/ superintends the work, and pretends to put the pictures straight, after Lot- 
tie has arranged them. 

li )T'r[E — {coming to the front and looking scorn- 
/tUl;'/ at Belto7i), I think, Mr. Belton, yon may Itavc 
this room to me. lam quite capable, I sliould Judge, 
of airang'iiig it properly without your aid. 'Jlieie 
must be plenty to do in the butlers pantry, and my 
lord attaches a good deal more importanc<^ to the 
ser\ ice of the tal>le than to the arrangeiiiriit of the 
furniture. 

1m:l'J'ON. — Never you fear, my [)!i*tty Lottie, no 
\)iu{ of uiy service shall be neglected. I would iMt, 
,< r a sovereign, see a frown on my master's lace io. 
day, the happiest day we've known for many yeais- 
I'uit you were here, Miss Lottie, and you aie aware of 

the attraction . Directly, I shall go to the cellar 

to st^lect the choicest wines, in which to drink the 
health of the ycmng gentleman. The bottles are fa- 
uu)usly covered with cobwebs, I assure you, but wlso 
thinks of trouble on such an occasion as this/ 

Lottie. — {flraicing near to Beltor), do tell me ;.-I 
about it, Mr. Belton. Why is Lc rd Alcott so u- 
jouvd at theretmn of his son';* 

i> ELTON. — Have you not heard the sioiy ! Wcii' 
\N hit will you give me if I repeat it to you ? I slniil 
ct'uamly expect to be paid for the troidJe. 

Lottie. — Oh! goon Mr. Helton, nud do your talk- 
ing, and we vnW see ab(mt the paA afterwaids. 



4 L.II.IA]^'S PR01II8E. 

l>i:L'r()N. — Well, here is thv' story then ! It is now 
jilinost eij>ht years since Master Gaston left t lie Cuis- 
tie. tie was then, {counting on his finger fi,) let me see, 
yes! about ei^^hteen years of age. He went away to 
foreign i)arts, his i>arents knew not where. He was 
their only child, and his fond mother sickened, and 
j)ined away, until she fell into a decline and died. 

loT'J'iE. — This nnist have been a sad blow, indeed, 
to ()ur hn'd. 

1>ELT0N. — Ah, yes! He nearly lost his leason. 
Miss Florence, who was brought to the ('astle, a 
mere infant, and was tenderly I'eared by her annt, 
did all she could to cheer him. But it was not nntil 
the arrival of Miss Lilian, about three years ago, that 
he ai)i)eared once more to feel an interest in what 
was going on around him. 

LivrviK. — No wonder. Miss Lilian is such a sweet, 
lovable creature! 

IjELTon. — 1 accomj)ani(Ml my master when he 
brought hour' his beautiful bride, such a hap])y, joy- 
ous lady she was — ;just Hkc Miss Lilian. The old 
Oasth^ was never gloomy in those days. Miss Tjilian 
resembles her aunt in more ways than one, and 1 
think that is tlie reason master loves her so dearly; 
he (nm scarcely bear her out of his sight. 

Lottie. — ( )ii, yes! 'tis jdain that she is his favor- 
ite, and that accounts for the Jealousy of Miss Flor- 
in ice. 

Belton. — lust so! During the first few years of 
Master (xaston's absence, he wrote letters home, but 
far apart; sometimes there wouhl be months between 
them. But since niihnly's death, no tidings of him 
had reached ns, and we had all given him nj) foi' 
dead. And now, when least expected, conies the 
glori(ms news that he is returning to the Castle, and 
will be here almost as soon as his letter. 

Lottie. — He had d<mbtless received the news of 
his mother's <leath, and in his sorrow, did not Amte 
again. But have T not heard it said that he was be- 
trothed to his cousin, Miss Florence, when they were 
b»)th mere chihlren ? 



L.IL,IAi\'J5i PRO:?II8E. r> 

Belton. — Yes, indeed ! it was by 1113' lady's wish 
that they shoukl be united as soon as Mi-. Gaston 
came of age. 

Lottie. — (jumping and striMng her hands together), 
Oh, I am so glad Then there will be a wedding 
in the family, and we shall have some fun, after all 
these gloomy days. 

Belton. — I should not be surprised. )5ut now I 
have told you all ; so pay me my fee, and let me go 
about my business, [he tries to kiss her, hut she puUs 
away from him.) 

Lottie.— Yonr fee! Mr. Belton; indeed I don't un- 
derstand you. 

Belton. --Yeii you do. You knew very well that 1 
should exact it after satisfying your curiosity in the 
way I have. So come now, don't be prudish; give 
me a kiss, that's a good girl, and let's awaj' to 
work ; there's lots to be done to-day, and master, you 
know, has no patience for idleness or gossip. Well ! 
the kiss ! {he tries again to catch her in his arms; she 
dodges him.) 

Lottie. -Thsiiik goodness; idleness and gossip are 
no failings of mine, oh no! But why don't you go? 
Don't let me detain you, pray! 

Belton. -1 go; but not until you pay the fee. {in a 
sentimental tone) It is so seldom that I get a chance 
to speak to you, noAvadays, that I cannot tear myself 
away, and Avhen I see you not, the sun has ceased to 
shine. 

Lottie.— {laughing heartily) Ha! ha! ha! why you 
are becoming sentimental, Mr. Belton; ha! ha! ha! 
oh, fie! you have been listening at the door again. 
Whenever you launch one of those fine phrases, I 
know you have been behind the portiere listening to 
the pretty speeches made to om^ young ladies by 
their beaux, and I don't Mke anything at second hanxl, 

unless it is in the shape of a Paris bonnet or a 

nice silk dress, {during this phrase, Pierre appears at 
the center parlor door ana advances on tiptoe, with <( 
gliding step, and sto2)s to listen, a lool- of annoyance de- 
picted on his countenance.. He shal'cs his fists toicards 
Belton, his finger at Lottie.) 



() I.II.IA]V'S PROMISE. 

Beltoih-fsonu'ichat (IhconcertedJ Well! ngaiii I say, 
don't be so prudish, and perhaps I may some day be 
able to give you Paris bonnets and a pretty silk 
dress to suit your neat, trim tigure, Avhen you will 
eonsent to be ealled Mrs. Belton. (he tries again to Mm 
her; Pierre suddenly rushes fornxird^ steps in between 
them, straightens himself up to his fidlh eighty and loolts 
fiereeiy first at the one then at the other. Lottie and 
Belton both jump aside startled; Lottie gives a screayn.) 

Helton.— (rapidly, aside) That cursed rrenchman 
again! will he never leave me in peace! to be inter-' 
ruptejd at suc^h a, moment too ! 

Pierre.— [sareastieally] Mrs. Belton! enverite! you 
think that young, pretty mamselle go marry you! 
She Avants 3 oung man like me: she Avants handsome 
man like nie; she no wants ole man like^o?(. You no 
dance, you no sing, y(m no like/»», you walk this 
way, [imitating Belton\s heavy tread] I walk this way, 
[tripping and daneing aboutthe stage.] You big, heavy 
Hinglishman.' me light, lively Frenchman. You no 
know how make love to pretty nmmselle; 7ne talk 
sweet and pretty to them; n'est ce pas, mamselle 
Lottie? [Lottie is looldng at him laughing immoderate- 
ly; he shakes his finger at her] Ah .^ you median te Co- 
quette.' [he paces the stage with angry gestures, aside] 
Madam Belton, en verite.' the ole fool/ I teach him 
talk that way to mamselle. [during this phrase, Bel- 
ton has looTxed at Vierre contemptuously, his hands in 
his2JocJi'ets; he now shrugs his shoulders, and goes over 
towards Jjottie ivho is still laughing. 

Be/fon.— Miss Lottie, we will resume this conversa- 
tion on some other occasion, when ilnxt fellow will be 
out of the way, if such a chance be possible, for he 
is like your very shadow; impossible to be alone with 
you one moment, without his thrusting his unwel- 
come i)resence between us, and it is all your own 
fault, for you ever encourage his silly attentions. 

I'ierre.— [listening all the while] Mamselle Lottie 
will no see you alone, monsieur; will no like you, 
monsieur.' she like me.' she marry me! i^^e take her 
to Paris; me buy her pretty things myself. You no 



LIL.IAIV'8 PROI?IIJS»E. 7 

s})sak love to her no more, or me fight you; me 
Frenchman; me kill you! [he 2)^(ts himself hi tvjight- 
oig posture.] 

Lottie.— [frightened J springs between them] Oh, 
])eace! he quiet, pray. I hear master's voice; he is 
coming" this wa^ , and what would he say if he 
caught you both quarreling here in the parlor? Mon- 
sieur Pierre, I will never speak to you again, if you 
are so unruly and quarrelsome. 

Pierre.— [with an tntreating gesture to laottie] Oh! 
mamselle, you no mean that; you no be so cruel! T 
be quiet as one miee. 

Pierre shakes liis fist behind Lottie's back at Bel- 
ton, irlio a£ain shrugs his syoulders contemptiwus- 
Jy. Lottie laughingly gives her hand to Pieii^e, 
Tvho kisses it gallantly, tlien lookstiiumphantly at 
Belt on who makes a inovement forward angrily. 
Lottie witlidraws her hand, and goes toword Belton 
roquettishly. 

Lottie.— Mr. Belton, I will see you again ; I will 
meantime, take your proposition into consideration' 

,At which PieiTC bHstles up again and is ready 
to exclaim. 

Lofrie.— Silence! here comes Lord Alcott and Miss 
Florence. 

She goes aiuay , left side, Belton and Pieii-e both 
followiag her; Belton jcith his usual heavy step; 
Pierre skipping and sliding. 

Belton.— [as he goes) That fellow must surely have 
been a dancing master to judge by the elasticity of 
liis limbs. 

Exeunt — LofMe. Pierre and Belton. 
Lnter Lord Alcott and Florence. 

Lord Al- Yes, dear Florence, this great, this 
unexpected news quite unmans me. While count- 
ing the weary, sleepless hours of the night, I have 
read and reread these precious lines, scarcely daring 
to grasp this long lost hope, lest it should be again 
wrested from me forever. 

Florence.— Oh, dear uncle, do not allow a doubt to 
chill our happiness to-day. Such words can not 



8 LIL.IAjV'S promise. 

deceive. Gaston is returning to us, his heart filled 
with remorse for his past neglect, with sweet prom- 
ises of affection and devotion for the future, [p'tint- 
ing towards the letter] See how nobly he expresses his 
regrets, how he assures us he has never betrayed 
the trusts we placed in him. 

LoiyZ A/.--You are right, my child, I should be all 
in joy, in smiles, and not allow my thoughts to dwell 
on the sad memories of the past, which can only 
serve to cloud the brightness of this day. But Avhile 
life endures, I can never forget how his dear mother^ 
my soul's loved companion, drooi)ed and died of a 
broken heart for the loss of her only son, in whom 
all our hopes were centered, leaving me alone in my 
misery. 

Florence.— [reproachfully] ''Alone," dear uncle; was 
your little Florry nothing i 

Lord Al.—{taling her hand) Forgive me, dear child, 
your affection has ever been to me a sweet solace, 
but this letter has so forcibly recalled all those bit- 
ter reminiscences of bygone days, that all else, for 
the moment, was drowned in the terrible vortex- 
But I must indeed try to shake off these harrowing- 
recollections; for all in the Castle must wear a festive 
aspect, to-day, to hail the return of my Avay ward boy. 

Florence.— Thmik you, dear uncle; I expected 
nothing less of your kind, forgi\dng nature. I knew 
you could not retain an angry thought against that 
beloved son, who returns to you of his own free will. 
We must combine to make Gaston feel that ho)ne is 
the dearest, sweetest spot on earth. 

Jjord A/.— This task devoh es chietly on you, my 
child. Does not Gaston also declare, in his letter, 
that he comes to claim the promised bride of his 
youth, the charndng girl of fourteen summers Avhom 
he left behind, his darling Florry, who has ever 
clung to him with a fidelity beyond her years. Sirre- 
ly the love of a life-time can alone requite such en- 
tire self abnegation. 

Florence, --My patient waiting was the result of my 
inalienable faith. I never, for a moment, doubted 



L.ILIAiV'8 PROMISE. 9 

my Gaston's truth; 1113' heart assured me that he 
woukl return. 

hord A?. --But you look pale this morning, Flor- 
ence, and methinks j^our features wear a cast of sad- 
ness unusual to them. How is that? You, w1k> 
chide my gloomy looks, should surely dress your own 
in gladness; the happiness of the heart mthhi 
should reflect itself upon your countenance. Does 
an;\i:hing trouble you ! 

J^/o.— Indeed, I know not. I am happy, supreme- 
ly happy, Avhen I think of the great joy wliich is in 
reserve for us ; but an anxiety I can not analyze 
gnaws at my heart, and sad forebodings mingle, in 
spite of all my efforts to discard them, with my most 
pleasurable emotions. I dread — I know not what. 
But fear not, uncle ; the sight of Gaston, the joy of 
our reunion, will dispel all gloom. 

A lively song is heard from the gctrdeiv ; Florence 
and Lord Alcott listen. 

ISong — Lilian — in the f/arden. 
They name me airy, fairy Lilian ; 

The birds, they answer to my call ; 
The flowers give forth their sweetest perfume, 

To greet their queen, queen over all. 
i Yes! my name is lairy Lilian, 
) Queen of nature, queen of all — [Ms] 
L. Al. — (tvith enthusiasm) there she is, my darling, 
with her sweet, merry song, the bright, happy creat- 
ure! I Avas wondering where she was this beautiful 
morning, 
Flo. — (aside) Lilian! always Lilian! his dar!ing! 
L. Al. — Hark! listen! she sings again. 

2nd verse — song — lAlian — still in the garden. 
They name me airy, flitting Lilian, 

The sunbeams dance around my feet ; 
All nature's robed in joy, in gladness, 

My ev'ry fondest wish to meet. 
( Yes ! my name is flitting Lilian, 
( All natin*e comes my wish to meet ! [his) 
L. A/.— Come, Florry, be joyous and free from care 
like your cousin; strive to cultivate her buoyant 



10 L.IL.IAX'8 PR03II8E. 

spirit, not only I'or the sake of those Avho love and 
suri'onnd yon/lnit for your OAvn. Leave carking- care 
to wrinkled age ; it ill becomes the youthful broAv. 

_^/(>....Yon Avould wish nie, in all respects, to re- 
semble Lilian-, she is quite yowv paragon. 

L. .4.?.— No more of this foolish jealous j', Florence; 
it is unworthy of your really generims, noble nature. 
It is the only fauit that mars the lovehness of your 
(character ; you should strive to overcome it. 

Ho.— If such be the ca^^e, you should not find.it 
strange, uncle, foi' Lilian has ever stood in the Avay of 
my happiness shice her arrival in our midst. She at 
once, Avithout any effort on her part, ingratiated her- 
self in your aft^ctions, assigning to me a place of 
secondary importance — to me, avIio until then had 
permitted no one to Aie AA'ith me in those little atten- 
tions, by which I sought to lure you back to the do- 
mestic circle. (L. Al. mcikes a sicpi of denial.) You 
need not deny it, uncle, my heart assures me it is so, 
and the loving- heart never deceives. And you are 
not the only one aa ho feels the influence, the glamour 
of her child-like loveliness. See how our Aisitors 
croAvd around her, laughing at her silly jests, folloAv- 
ing her from to floAver to floAver, as she trips lightly 
through the garden paths, as if she really Avere, 
as she sings, some "fairy queen" surrounded by her 
courtiers. 

L. A/.— That is all true, darling child ! The glad- 
ness and sweetness of her loving nature diffuse 
themselves on every object Avith which she comes in 
contact. She is like a bright sunbeam, bringing 
hope and gladness to all it shines upon. No more 
befitting title than that of "fairy queen" could be 
giA'en her, as she says, in her own sweet song; I 
C(ndd find none more appropriate. 

J^lo.— You liaA^e taught me, uncle, to place intellect 
aboA^e all other adA-antages; the cultiA-ation of the 
mind, you haA e said, formed one of our greatest at- 
tractions. In this respect, I AAiio have studied under 
your own skillful guidance, feel myself vastly supe- 
rior to this untutored child; yet, on every occasion, 



LlLIAiV'S PR03II!^E. 11 

slie becomes the cyuosure of all eyes, and her i)la>'- 
ful prattle attracts the attention of even the great 
and learned. Tell me, I pray you, wherein lies the 
charm ? 

L. AI. — [talcing her hand in his with tendernessl J 
will tell you, my chihl; it lies in those very qualities 
I have ever advised you to cultivate; that entire 
forgetfnlness of self, Avherever the happiness of oth- 
ers is concerned; that joyousness which springs 
from a pure, loving heart; she knows no artitice, 
fears no guile, and in her conhding innocence is evrr 
seeking to impart liai)piness to all around her. 
Jealousy could take no root in such a generous na- 
ture. But no more of this ; here comes my little sun- 
beam, {he draws Florence towards him, and I'isses her 
brow.) Be true to your own noble self, my chihl, 
and I shall then entertain no fears for your future 
happiness. 

Flo.— I will strive, dear uncle, to obey you in this as 
in all things, {she walks to the rearoftJie stage, Jefthand, 
and gazes from the window; Lilian enters singing gaily 
with flowers in a hoslety ichich she places on the table, 
then runs to her uncle and clasps her arms round Ins 
necl'; he embraces her tenderly.) 

Lilian. — Good morning, dear, dear uncle; yon 
look so very happy to-day that I can scarcely con- 
tain myself for joy. Oh ! I am so glad our dear Cous- 
in Gaston is so soon to be here, it affords you so much 
delight, and I so long to see him! 

Flo. — {with displeasure, aside) She so longs to see 
him! her dear Cousin Gastonl 

Lil. — But then you will no longer have so much 
room in your heart for your poor Lilian, who loves 
you so dearly, and if you love him more than you do 
me, I know J shall not like him. 

L. Al. — Fear not, my darhng, the old heart is still 
capacious enough to enshrine you both. Xone shall 
usurp the throne of my Fairy Queen, as all style 
you. But Avhere has my pet hidden herself tliis 
morning? I missed her sweet welcome, without 
Avhicli, the sun's bright rays, the songs of the biids, 
all that is lovely in nature, seems incomplete. 



12 L.IL.IA]¥'S PROMISE. 

Flo. — (aside) How lie dotes on lier! 

Lil — See, dear uncle, I liave culled the clioicest 
Howers to decorate the house as if Ave were awaithig 
the arrival of a prince. But he is more than a prince 
to us; is he not? and although I have never seen him, 
I feel that I shall love him dearly for your dear sake, 
my uncle. 

Flo. — [aside] A still, prophetic voice already whis- 
pers to me that she will love him. And Gaston! . 

Lil, — ftaMiig tip the bouquet from the table J Ijook, 
dear uncle, at this bouquet; is it not loA^ely? I have 
ransacked the whole garden in search of these flow- 
ers, the 2)rettiest 1 could find, to deck my Cousin Gas- 
ton's room ^ith, for he surely loves flowers; who 
does not ! 

Flo. — f springing for tear d tvth flashing eyes, as if to 
seize the houqiiet) Lilian! (she meets her uncle''s eye and 
reproving gesture, and sudden y stops J 

Lil. — [turni g to Florence] Why, Flony, are you 
here? Pardon me; I had not noticed you, or I 
should have wished yoii good morning also, [she ap- 
proaclies her] But what is the matter, dear? Have I 
again unwittingly offended you! I am such a silly, 
thoughtless girl, always doing something I ought 
not. 1 Jut Florry, on a day like this, you may well 
overlook my short-comings and blunders. What ! 
tears in your eyes! Tell me, 1 entreat yon, what dis- 
tresses you; have I caused you pain! Uncle, pray 
tell me, what have I done ? 

L. Al — Nothing, my child; you are, what you al- 
ways are, my little innocent, joyous pet [he passes 
over to Florence, saying in a lotv voice] Control your- 
self, Florence, have you already forgotten my ad- 
vice! Your foolish jealousy renders you most un- 
reasonable, [aloud] Come, my children, I will leave 
you to your fanciful arrangements ; for myself, I am 
too restless to remain mthin doors ; I will Avalk down 
the avenue to meet my son, for it is right I should be 
the first to welcome him, as he places his foot on the 
land of his forefathers, {he retires, maMng an imperi- 
ous gesture to Florence and a loving one to Lilian. Exit 



L.II.IAX'{§ PROMIJ^E. 13 

Lord Alcott. Florence seats herself near tJie table, 
leaning her head upon her hand in a sorroicful attitude, 
luihan observes her for ti moment, then tal-es a low 
stool and seats herself at her hnee, ialces her hand and 
caresses it) 

Lilian.— {caressingly) Come, Florry, our uncle has 
gone, we a^^e quite alone; look at me, darling, and 
tell me what it is that grieves you thus ? [aftev a2)ause\ 
Still silent? You know not, Florry, how you pain me. 
Oh! tell me at once, are you vexed mth vour silly 
niian? 

Flo.—[looMng around sadly at Lilian] Xo, dear, not 
vexed; anger has no part in mj^ emotions. 

Li7.— What is it, thenf Be frank, and tell me all. 
Do not think because I am such a giddy, thoughtless 
girl, that I am incapable of comprehending you. 1 
can be very serious and sensible, at times, I assure 
5 ou; just giA e me a trial and see if I am not worthy 
of yoiu^ confidence. 

¥ijO.—[ivith sudden imjmlse] Well, if you will know 
the cause of my uneasiness, I will tell you : Lilian, 
I am jealous of you! 

LTL.—[lmighing heartily] Jealous of 7ne, of mel 
Why, Florry, how perfectly ridiculous ! Is this all 
that troubles you! 

Flo.— I thought you could be so ''very serious and 
sensible at times," and it is thus you receive my first 
expressions of confidence, with your usual levity and 
ill timed hilarity; however, it is no more than I an- 
ticipated. 

LiL. -You are right. Pardon me, Florence, and I 
will be as serious as you coidd desire. But the idea 
struck me as so jireposterous ; that you, beautiful, 
talented, accomplished as you are, could for an in- 
stant be jealous of such an insignificant little body 
as myself. 

Flo.— Insignificant, Lilian, as you are pleased to 
style yourself, are you not aware that there is a 
subtle charm about yoti which I possess not; you, the 
''Fairy Queen,^'' as they all call you, and which ren- 
ders you so irresistible to those you seek to j)lease, as 
indeed, to all others f 



14 lillilAN'S PROMISE. 

Ltl.— This is mere folly and exaggeration, a plian- 
tom of your imagination. Florence, I seek to please 
no one besides our dear uncle, for I do love him so 
dearly! Surely you are not jealous of his affection, 
you, wlio are so soon to be united to the man you 
iove.^ 

Flo.— I have been, but let it rest; that weakness 
is j)ast. I am only too glad, now, that he will have 
your love and devotion to cheer his path through life 
when I am gone. You will then supply my place, 
and I shall not be missed. But if you desire to see 
me truly happy and cheerful, you must make me a 
l)romise, Lilian. 

LiL. — A promise, dear? Why, certainly, anything 
that can make you cheerful and happy, Florry. You 
could ask me no promise that I could not grant; so, 
unheard, I pledge my word to comply with whatever 
3'ou may demand of me. 

Flo. — The promise, then, that I exi^ect of you, is, 
that, fairy -like, you Avi!l not spread your wiles around 
our Cousin Gaston to lure him to your feet, as you 
have, unconsciously, I know, charmed and subdued 
so many others. I can endure no rivahy in his case, 
for I have loved him, it seems to me, all my life -time. 
He is my very own-, I want him, at last, all to myself. 
You are welcome to all other homage; but my Gas- 
ton's homage can^not be shared 

LiL. — What a strange promise, Florence, and how 
unnecessary, it appears to me, that you should exact 
it of me ! But be it as you wish. I have already 
pledged my word to do all that you desire of me. 
Would you have me avoid my Cousin Gaston, be cold 
and distant to him, and make myself as stupid and un- 
interesting to him as possible? Say, is this the part 
yon would have me perform! 

Flo. — Yes, my darling Lilian, (caressing her) and 
while I acknowledge the generosity of your guileless 
nature, T blush at the exacting weakness that de- 
mands such a sacrifice. 

LiL. — It is no sacrifice, although it will i)erhaps 
seem strange to me to curb my hitherto unfettered 



Ii!L.IA]V'S PROMI*?»E. 15 

will, to dissemble my most natural affection towards 
one who is so near to us. But say no more. I am 
glad your confidence and affection are restored to 
me. I will strive never to forfeit tliem ; I have been 
so pained by your displeasure. 

Flo. — your i^robation shall not be long ; for our 
uncle desires the wedding to take i)lace as soon as 
possible, in a month's time, I believe he said, so that 
his son may at once have some fixed purpose to at- 
tach him to the land of his inheritance, and thus 
wean him from those ro\ang propensities Avhich have 
caused his parents so much uneasiness. 

LiL. — Again you have my promise, Florence ; let 
your mind be at ease. And to begin the part I am 
to play, take this bouquet, Florry ; you \^ill be better 
pleased to decorate oiu^ Cousin Gaston's room with 
your own loving hands. But first, let me i:>lace one 
or two of the sweetest flowers in your beautiful hair, 
for you must look your best to-daj , to charm and 
welcome your betrothed. (sJie places s^me flowers in 
Florence'^s hair). 

Flo.— {pointing to the clock) See ! the hour advances. 
My beloved mil soon be here. Let us hie to our 
rooms, dear, and j)repare ourselves to meet 
him. [playfully] Come, let's away ! [she encircles Lil- 
ianh icaist; Lilian returns the caress; they icalk to- 
wards the right side door; as they are ahoiU to disap- 
pear , Pierre enters with two cards on a silver salver; 
Florence returnirg^ takes the car as.] 

Flo.— Bit Aithur Thornbull and Sir Ernest Bel- 



Pierre. — Yes, mamselle; they say they ^vish see 
the ladies on very special business this morning. 

Flo. — Ah! show them up. [Fxit Pierre.] 

lAl. — {also returning to the front] How tu^esome ! I 
feel in no mood to rattle oft' nonsense and talk hor- 
sey with Lord Ernest Belgrade. I know I shall be 
as stupid as an owl. But we will hiuTy them oft'. I 
wonder what brmgs them here so early ? 
. Flo. — Hush ! here they are. 

Enter Sir AHhiir ThombvM and Lord Ernest, 



16 lilLIAN'S FK1>MI8E. 

(center), they how, and wish the ladies good morn- 
ing; Sir ^'Tthur goes towairl Florence, Lord Ernest 
toivards Lilian.) 

glr Ar. — We have to apologize for this early call, 
but the excitement of the chase led us in the direc- 
tion of your domain, and, Uke the knights-errant of 
old, we could not resist the temptation of pausing a 
moment to pay our homage to the divinities within. 

L. Er. — (m a draivUng tone) Yes! you know, is not 
this the enchanted Castle of which we read so much 
in our childhood, inhabited by beautiful fairies," 
who, with their wiles and fascinations, entice the 
unwary traveler to their festive halls, then turn 
them into stone if the luckless wight have the mis- 
fortune to offend, [in a loiv voice] I declare, Miss Lil- 
ian, I sometimes feel as if that fate were reserved to 
myself, when so irresistibly attracted by the magic 
of your charms, then chilled and almost petrified by 
your coldness and indifference. 

j/il, — ilcmghing) Oh! then beware, my lord, how 
you displease me, lest I be tempted to transmute you 
into a beautiful statue to adorn our parterre, you 

X. Er. — Oh, you fairy! 'tis ever thus you jeer and 
llout me, though you know so well that I have laid 
both heart and hand at your dear little feet. 

^Iy At. — But apart from the enjoyment we ever 
derive from a visit to Rockmount Castle, we had an- 
other motive for this morning's call. There is to be 
a meet at Elwood Park to-morrow, and Lord and 
Lady Elwood requested us to solicit your attendance 
with Lord Alcott. 

X. Er. — {ivitli enthusiasm) You must not fail to be 
present 5 there will be ''high jinks," I assure you. 
There will be a magnificent collation for the guests, 
you know, and a hunting breakfast for the tenantry. 
The hounds are in splendid condition, and the whole 
thing Tvill go off' in fine style, you know. 

]^Iq, — You forget that I am an unskillful rider, and 
far too timid for a huntress — quite unlike Lilian, 
who is never more at home than when in the saddle. 
But we can neither of us accept the invitation — 



L.ILIA]\''8 PROMISE. 17 

L. Er. — {i)iterrupti)ig) Dou't refuse, I entreat you; 
the limit ^\in lose half its charm if Miss Lilian is not 
there. A loA^ely girl, with such a seat in the saddle, 
and such a light hand for a horse's mouth, is, to me, 
little less than a divinity ; 'twas thus she enslaved my 
heart. Miss Lilian and her horse, with the eager 
hounds clustering around her, form the finest group, 
I ever beheld, in painting oi in statuary. 

hil. — More than halt the beauty of the picture be- 
longs to my beautiful Lightfoot; was he not a mag- 
nificent Christmas present? 

L. Ur. — Yes, indeed ! I believe there is nothing 
that your fond uncle can deny you; [m a low voice] I 
don't see how he could. Miss Lifian! [aloud] But you 
have no idea what fun it is to see Miss Elwood at the 
hunt; she is the most desperate plunger I ever met. 
Since she has tui^ned the corner of 30, she has given 
up waltzing, and goes in, heart and soul, for hunt- 
ing; 'tis the finest thing you can imagine, to see her 
take a five barred gate as if it were the merest trifle. 

Li/.— You need not speak of my skill after such 
daring exj^loits as those. 

L. ±Jr.- -L had a splendid race with her last week. 
We went for it neck and neck, and dashed right 
through chesnut hollows, and rode up the steep ap- 
proach to the house of the M. F. H., where the meet 
was to be held. There were several beautiful women 
present, who had come to see the hounds throAv off. 
We had not long to wait, you know. The mellow 
horn rang out loud and clear, the cheery halloas 
caused every heart to leap, and every nerve to tingle 
with excitement. The whole field burst away in the 
direction the fox was leading us. 

Li/.— How Aery eicitin^sii ftius^ha^te h%ei^ ho^]^ 
wish ISiaC^neisthei^ (V /^ .^.^^U^" 

L. Er.-\ was again at me~sid:eofMiss Elwood ; on 
we went together. There was a stiff thicket ahead; 
1 saw at once that 'twas an awkward leap, so I lost 
sight of my companion, and gave all my attention to 
working up my hunter, and cleared the hedge finely. 
When I found myself safely over, I looked back to 



18 lilLIAWS PROMISE. 

see what had become of the graceful amazoii. Bj- 
Jove! there she came, tearing along, and lifting her 
beautiful sorrel high in the air, went over like a bird. 
1 joined her, and we were again neck and neck, and 
got in just in time for the death. She received, of 
course, you know, the brush as a troi^hy of her dai - 
ing exi^loit, and was highly complimented on her 
j>lucky feat. By Jove! I could adore that woman, if 
she were ten years younger, and I had never met {in 
a low voice) you know who, Miss Lilian. 

Lil.—fwith animation J I should have enjoyed it be- 
yond measure. 

S.r Ar.— The weather i)romises to be favorable jl 
think we shall have a cloudy day and south wind. 
The scent will lie; you must not refuse to join the 
hunt. 

^Zo.- -It is impossible! We are hourly expecting 
the arrival of our long abseut cousin, Lord i\ Icott's 
only sou. My uncle has gone to meet him; they will 
doubtless soou be here. 

Sir Ar.— Your uncle's son! Why it is generally un- 
derstood that he died abroad some years ago. 

^Zo. --Sir Arthur, I pray you give me your atten- 
tion for a few moments ; there is an explantion due 
to you, and must not be deferred. (8ir Arthur and 
Florence are seated on one sofa, Lilian and Lord Er- 
nest on the other; the two latter, rise and icalk toward 
tlie terrace.) 

Ltl. — {as she goes) I am so sorrj- that I can not go 
to the hunt to-morrow ; in a few days, we, too, will 
have ''high jinks," I promise you, to celebrate the re- 
turn of our cousin, and we shall expect you aud Sir 
Arthur to be present on that occasion, {they chat gai- 
ly and examine the flotvers.) 

Flo. — Sir Arthui', I have never spoken to you of 
my Cousin Gaston, nor of my early childhood, nor of 
our solemn betrothal to each other when I was only 
14 years of age, for I knew not whether he was still 
li\ing, nor whether we should ever see him again. 
But he has written, his letter only precedes him a 
few hours, he will be home to-day, to ratify his prom- 
ise, he savs, and to claim me as his bride. 



L.1L.IAN'^ PROMISE. 19 

Sir Ar. — And you, Florence, what aieyour inten- 
tions with regard to liini whom yon have not seen 
for so many years? 

Flo. — There can he no hesitancy in my mind. I 
have loved him and waited for him during all these 
long years of absence and trial, and the joy of his re- 
turn renews and strengthens my affection. 

Sir Ar. — (springing up excitedly) Oh! Florence, 
you can not mean this! Why have you never spo- 
ken to me on this subject before ? You knew how 
passionately I loved you, how I have laid my life 
and fortune at yoiu'feet, and although I have never 
received from your lips the assurance that my hom- 
age was accepted, yet your whole demeanor was 
such as to warrant the hope that at some futiu-e day, 
I might call you mine. Take back your cruel words, 
Florence, they can not be true ! 

Flo. — {also rising) It distresses me to give you 
pain. Sir Arthur, but my lips have spoken only the 
trath. 

Sir Ar. — A^Tiat, Florence! You the noble, the 
proud one, entrust your life, your happiness to such 
a man, a i)rofligate who broke his mother's heart ! 

Flo. — [icith a deprecating movement and raising 
her head proudly] Stoj), Sir Artliiu'! I can not allow 
you to speak thus of the man whose name I am to 
bear. No one has the right to call him profligate^ for 
none are acquainted with his actions since he left us. 

Sir Ar. — Pardon me, but you must listen to me 
for this once, though my words do cause you pain. 
I wish you to reflect well before taking this serious 
step 5 I ^^ish you to weigh well in the balance the 
two conditions of life that are now open to your 
choice. I offer you a respected home, an affection 
that has known no change since first I learned to 
know and appreciate your worth. On the other side* 
a romantic infatuation of childhood to if cousin who 
attached so little importance to it, that, if I remem- 
ber well, he abandoned his home, his parents, his 
standing in society, to gratify a selfish whim, a rov- 
ing x^ropensity. You know nothing of his pursuits 



20 MIRIAM'S PRI^MISE. 

since he left you, nor of liis disi)Ositiou nor of Ms 
morals ; lie is un entire stranger to yon; lie may have 
changed completely from the youth you parted with. 
And it is for this man, P'lorence, that you are ready 
to sacrifice the sincere, loyal aflection I offer you! 

Flo. — Enough! Sir Arthur, I will no longer listen 
to such accusations against my cousin, the compan- 
ion and lover of my youth. Were you to read the 
noble sentiments contained in his letter, you would 
not judge him so harshly ; you would be convinced 
that my confidence is not misplaced. 

; m An. — Time Avill prove, Florence, the value of 
my words. Under all circumstances, I shall ever be 
your steadfast friend, even as I am now your devo- 
ted lover. I will not resign you thus. [Florence looks 
at Mm angrily) I see I pain and anger you; I will 
say no more at present. But ere I take my leave, I 
will make this compact with you : I will give you one 
month, Florence, to know your own heart, to decide 
your choice between us. During that time, if you 
will permit me, I shall continue occasionally to visit 
the family circle, which has become so dear to me ; 
I will not seek to see you alone, nor offer you a single 
expression of afiection or of reproof. But at the end 
of the month, I will crave an inter\dew with you, 
alone, as now. I will then renew my suit and solicit 
your hand. If I am again repulsed, I shall leave the 
land of my birth and seek in foreign climes the hap- 
l)iness I could neither find nor confer in England. 
Will you agree with this compact? 

Flo. — Yes! I will! In one month from to-day. 

Sir Ah. — I thank you, Florence. Allow me to 
i:>ress your hand in token of forgiveness and friend- 
ship. [Florence places her hand in his; he presses it to 
his lips, then turns toivard the terrace froin which Lil- 
*ian and Lord Ernest are just returning. To Lord Er- 
nest) 'Tis time we should rejoin the hunt ; we will 
have the honor of visiting the ladies this evening, 
with their permission. 

Flo. — We will be most happy if you will do so. 
[Theyhotv. Exeunt ^Sir Arthur and Lord Ernest. 



LiL. — Oomej Florry, we have no time to si)are; 
our uncle and cousin will soon be ]iere. Come ! 
Exeunt Florence and Lilian, r 
Enter L^rd Alcott and his son Gaston Alcott. 

L. Al. — Thrice welcome, my son, to Eockmount 
Castle, the home of 3'our ancestors, the cradle of 
your infancy, [pointing to the i)lctareH on the walls] 
Could these veterans of the past, whose glorious 
deeds have shed their lustre around our name, de- 
scend from their shadowy abodes, they would unite 
with me in welcoming to his home the last scion of a 
l>roud and spotless race. 

Gas. — [dasping his father^s hand with affection] 
Your kindness and generosity, my honored fathei", 
owerwhelmme; it is more than I deserve! I, who 
for so many years have remained a voluntary exile 
from the paternal mansion ! But wliere is my cousin, 
where is Florence? I am all impatience to embrace 
her. 

L. Al. — I presume, woman-like, they are giving 
the last beautifying touches to their toilets, {he rings 
the bell; enter Pierre.) Tell Miss Florence and Miss 
Lilian that their presence is requested in the parlor. 
{Exit Pierre.) 

Gas. — Miss Lilian, father! Pray who may she be ? 
'Tis the first time I have heard her name ; or have I 
forgotten f 

L. Al. — Xo, my son, you have never known this 
other cousin; she is the child of your Uncle Theo- 
<lore, who married in the Lidies, where he amassed 
a handsome fortune. Lilian becanie an orphan about 
three years ago, and on his death-bed, my brother 
bequeathed his daughter to my care, in words I shall 
never forget: ''Take," he wrote, "this darling child 
to your heart ; you will find her a pearl of inestima- 
ble wor'hj she will prove the solace, the joy of your 
declining years, a treasure to you as she has ever 
been to me." And indeed, she has, in every resi)ect, 
realized the hopes her fiither inspired. Ah! here 
they come! j^o, 'tis oidy Florence. You need no 
introduction here. 



22 I.IL.IAN'8 PR^MI^E. 

Enter Florence; she eagerly approaclies Gaston 
wlho advances toward her with both hands extend- 
ed, in which she places doth hers, looking at him 
proudly. 

Flo. — Gaston! my cousin! 

GAS- — Dear Florence ! 

L. Al. — Well, are you not going to embrace her, 
my sonf -At your age, I required no prompting, I 
assure you, to kiss nuj pretty cousins. 

Gas. — If she Avill permit it. [he embraces her) It 
was difficult for me to recognize in this stately, beau- 
tiful young lady, the playmate of my boyhood, the 
indulgent companion of my youth. I scarcety dared 
take the liberty. 

Flo. — Do you then find me so changed, my cous- 
in"? I should have recognized you in a crowd. 

Gas. — Ko, dear Florence, not changed, but im- 
proved. Time iias wrought no other change in you 
than to embellish what was already lovely. And 
dare I indulge the hope that the heart I considered 
mine^ has known no greater change than those 
loved features that have remained so fondly pictured 
on the tablets of mj' memory f 

Flo. — No, Gaston, my heart has known no change, 
no shadow of turning. 

Gas. — And now, dear Florence, ere I claim the 
ratification of tlie i^rondse that has been as a guiding 
star to me, ever pointing homeward, I Avish to give 
both to you and my lather an explanation of my past 
conduct, which must have seemed most heartless and 
unfilial during these long years of absence and sup- 
posed neglect. I wish to prove to you that I have 
never derogated from the i)rinciples of a gentleman ; 
never for an instant forgotten the noble blood whic^h 
flows in my veins ! never brought dishonor on the 
name I bear! 

L. Al.— Thank you, my son, for these assurances 
which relieve my heart of a heavy burden. Some 
day, you will give to Florence and myself full details 
of this painful past. But not now ; our present joj' 
must not be overshadowed bv such reminiscences ; 



spare us the recital of all you lia^e suffered, until 
time shall have made us realize more fuU^ that our 
loved Avauderer is indeed restored to us, never to 
leave us more. 

Flo.— Yes! dear uncle, this day must be solely 
devoted to heart-felt thanksgiving and festJAe joy. 
{Gaston tctkes her hand and presses it in his (cith affee- 
tion. 

L. Al. — But where is Lilian! She is not usually 
so long at her toilet. I will go myself in search of 
her. [he goes toicard the door. Enter LiJian.) 

LiL. — Were you looking for me, uncle ? 

L. Al. — {placing her ann in his and leading Iter for- 
ward) Yes, my darling! {He leads her to Gaston and 
introduees her; Lilian lool's up with a jogous expression 
and extends her hand to Gaston; hut meeting the eye of 
Florence, lets fall her hand and only botes.) Give youi' 
cousin the kiss of welcome, as Florence did; he is 
worthy of all our love and esteem. 

Ltl. — I doubt it not, my uncle; and my welcome 
is none the less sincere for not being ratified by a 
liss. I am truly Impi^y at your return. Cousin (-as- 
ton, and shall feel less strange towards you, when 
Ave become better acquainted. 

Gas. — I hope that ^Yi\l be very soon, and that you 
will not then refuse me, as now, the sweet priA ilege 
my cousinship, I think, entitles me to. {aside) My 
father says truly, she is a charming creature. But 
AN^hy did she refuse to kiss me? Surel}' coldness or 
disdain could not bask beneath such smiles, nor 
can such a SAA^et face belie the loA'Cliuess of the 
heart! 

L. Al. — [tvatching Lilian. Aside:) ^^hat is the 
matter with the child ! I ncA^er kucAv her so con- 
strained and reserved before. I must find out Avhat 
it means, [to Lilian] What ails m^^ little girl? She 
seems unlike herself today. 

Lil. — Nothing ails me, uncle; I rejoice in every 
one's happiness. 

L. Al. — You are so happy it makes you silent and 
sad, eh? Is that it? Hem! rather unnatural for you 



l>4 i.^i;iA:V'S FUIK^III^E. 

to show your joy in tliis way. [a.<:iilc\ V\\ ciigag-e 
that Flon'iH'C is at tlie bottom of this; I will watch 
Ikt doscly. 

(tAS.— I Jim iini)aticnt to renew acuiuaiiitance \wth 
the dear old grounds and venerable trees so closely 
identified with fond memories of my chil<lhoo<l. Wi'^ 
not my (M>usins accompany nu^ in my rand)le through 
the woods ? 

Fio.—[a2)pro<(('l(es Qa^ion to tale his prof ered arm] 
I shall be delighted to accompany you. 

(r^f-s.-And y<m, Cousiu Lilian, ^^ill you not also 
join us? 

JjU.—]('Jiiif/in(j to her unele] Xo, thank you: I will 
remain with my uncle. He lias had along walk this 
morning, and, dcmbtless, feels fatigued; l)esides, he 
beat me unmercifully at chess last evening, and now 
I claim my revenge. 

Gasfon hojvs. Exeinit Gaston and Florence. 

\Al.— [running to get tne ehes.s-hoard, while her nncle 
seats himself on til e .wf a; she brings a low stool and 
places the hoard on her uncleh lap and her oien] Come, 
uncle, shall we have our game? 

L. A/.— Whatever gives you pleasure, clnhl. 

JJl.— [arranging the pieces o)i the hoard] Now do 
your best, uncle; give all your attention to the game. 
\ feel T am going to checkmate you! 

Curtain falls. 



L.ILIA\'8 PRO:fIISE. 



ACT 2nd. 



Scene ist.— -A garden; the trees illuminated with lanterns; groups of men 
and women ; tenantiy of the Castle, in holiday dress, in the background , Belton 
IS running about giving orders; Lot.ie in the foreground. 

liOT.— {laughing) Well, to be sure! these are fine 
doings, indeed, for this old castle that has kno\^^l no 
sounds of mirth all these jears that I have lived 
here. It seems to be waking up in good earnest. I 
suppose we shall have more "high jbiks," as Lord 
Ernest says, when the wedding comes off. 

Bel..— {eoniing forward) Well, Miss Lottie, is this 
scene gay enough to please you ? 

Lot. ---Heigh ho! how nice it is, to be sure, t'» be 
rich and young and admired and happy ; to be flat- 
tered by every body, as if you were more than the 
common herd. I wonder if my tmii will ever come ? 
Life has made a sad mistake in my case. 

Bel.— What! complaining of your hard lot, as 
usual '? never satisfied '? You had bettor accept my 
offer, Lottie, and I will do all I can to please you. 

Lot.— I thank you, Mr. Belton, but my desires 
soar a little higher than any position you can ofter. 

Bel. -Oh, yes! a man of my inches is too low in 
your estimation. You must have, forsooth, a ^i^c- 
footer. 1 supi)ose Pierre is youi* i)attern. 

Lot.— Law ! Mr. Belton, you talk like a goose; that 
comes of your jealousy; apart f^;om that, you a^-e 
quite a sensible, reasonal3le man. 

Bel.— Well, you have not told me what you think 
of this impromptu festival^ as they style it in the par- 
lor. I take no little pride to mysolffor it«; success; 
for the arrangements are all of my contriving. The 
family seem too much absorbed in other thoughts 
.0 pay attention to the preparations. They gave me 



26 lilLIAlV'S PROmSE. 

no orders, except to si:)are no expense and do all I 
could to make everybody happy. 

Lot. -You certaii)ly deserve great praise; for your 
fete promises to be superb. See ! my feet are danc- 
ing alreadj^ ; I can not keep them still. The music 
sounds so lovely in these woods. I can scarcely con- 
tain iny impatience. 

Pieire maJces Ms appearance from the right side 
of the stage, coming from the garden, a>clvctncing, 
as usual, stealthily on tiptoe, listening, and watch- 
ing Belt on and Lottie 

Bel. -You shall dance to your heart's content, 
this night, Miss Lottie. 

Pierre, -[asi^e] Oui! she dance beaucoup, but 
Aith me! \ith me! 

^'EaL. -[continuing] I exiject to be joxxx partner for 
at least half a dozen of the round dances. I leave 
the waltzes to your favored admirer. Monsieur Pierre; 
dancing comes naturally to him, as to all French- 
men, like si^elbng and reading, as Dogberry says. 

V\e;kr^.--( still tinseen^ aside) Monsieur Dogberry 
he say true, he know. Me waltz with mamselle! oh, 
me like that. Monsieur Belton, he good man to- 
idght. 

Lot. — (laugJiing) Are you really going to dance, 
Mr. Belton f Well, rather than sit idle, I may grant 
you a dance or two, but I assure you mj^ expecta- 
tions rise far beyond either you or Mr. Pierre, this 
evening. 

Pierre. — {ivith a start, aside) Hem? vot she say? 

Lot. — [continuing) As this thing has been gotten 
up so suddenly, there will i)robably not be many la- 
dies i)resent, so I shall stand a good chance of get- 
ting some of the gentlemen for partners. 

Pierre. — [aside, with rage, shaking his finger at 
her) Oh ! the mechante coquette ! when she Madame 
Pierre me teach her want to dance with the grand 
gentlemen! 

Bel. — You silly girl! You had better take my 
advice, and keep in your own sphere. You remem- 



LIOAIV'S PROMIi<!iE. 27 

ber my offer, do 3 ou not ? {on an ejaculation from 
iPierre^ he turns roundy and perceiving Pierre, makes a 
movement of disgust and anger) That hateful French- 
man, again! I knew he coukl not be far off; he is 
forever dogging my steps, and some daj, before k)ng, 
I shall forget, I fear, niy dignity and the respect I 
owe to my master, and pa;v that fellow back, once 
for all for his insolence and the constant annoy- 
ance he causes me. I shall show him then what '-^one 
hinglisJiman^^ can do, as he sajs. [he puts himself in a 
boxing attitude] Confound the rascal ! I would like to 
hold him a few jjaces in front of me, in the woods 
somewhere, away from the light of 3 our ejes, Miss 
Lottie, I would make him i)ass a few uneas^^ mo 
ments, I assure you. The arrogant, coneited clown ! 

Pierre. — [coming forward to the side of Bel ton \ 
Me read}' to light when go^i read}', monsieur. But 
Frenchmen no fight that way: [imitating Belton''s box- 
ing attitude] Frenchman fight ^\itll pistoles ^ with one 
sword, for their ladjiove. [He looks sweetly on Lottie; 
Belton shrugs his shoulders contemptuously , with a sneer 
on his lips.] 

Yn^B.u^. - (continuing) ^ Come, mamsellej come, avec 
moi, me make 3^ou much pleasure this evening. Me 
make jou dance all 3'ou want. That ole man can 
talk, but he can't dance. No, no ! me show jou what 
dance is ! 

Bel. — [scornfully; half laughing, aside) I begin to 
think that fellow is not even worth my anger. A real 
bag of wind, like so many of his countrymen. I am 
sorry for Lottie, however; that she listens so compla- 
cently to his nonsense. But she will soon become 
tired of him and his boasting, and will then weigh 
the difference between this French idiot and myself. 
{turning to Lottie) Miss Lottie, do not forget our 
dances. But here come our gentlefolks ; I hear their 
voices. 

Pierre holds out his arm to Lottie, who accepts it, 
and he ships away lightly with her to the rear of 
the stage. Belton looks after them with a scornful 
expression ; then turning to the musicians : 



2S I^IILIAN'S PROMISE. 

Bel. — Now, my boys, attention! the master comes! 
Music, strike up! Mind you do your best; I expect, 
you to display your greatest talent on this grand and 
solemn occasion. Goon, now! 

The hand plays a march; Belton walks pompous- 
ly to the rear, and shows himself very efficient in 
keeping the tenants back, to make room for the 
company arriving, and in giving directions in ev- 
ery quarter. Tony Marsten is in a prominent posi- 
tion in front of the men; the luomen are ranged on 
the opposite side. Enter, from left side, Lord'Alcott 
with Lilian, Gaston with Florence. Belton makes 
a sign to Tojiy, and shouts are heard of ''Hun^ah! 
hurrah! Welcome home to our young lord I Long 
life and happiness to him!" Gaston waves his 
hand in token of thanks : Belton makes a sign to 
cease the shouts and music while Gaston speaks. 

Gas. — Thanks, my friends, for these joyful demon- 
strations, which prove the goodness of your hearts 
and your fealty to ^> our masters. 1 — 

Belton makes a sign ; they again shout ' 'Hear 
him.! hear him! hurrah! hurrah!" Another sign 
from Belton to stop. 

Gas. — I feel deeply touched by these evidences of 
your attachment, by your cordial welcome, and shall 
not forget it. 

He hows to thcjn, and they again shout: "Hur- 
rah! hurrah!" Gaston heckons to Belton, who 
hastens to his side 

Gas. — Belton, let a cask of al^ and another of wine 
be dealt out to these good fellows whose throats 
nuist be dry with shouting. They will want to 
drink our health. 

The crowd: "Yes! yes! hurrah! hurrah! 

Gas. — And now, let the dancing go on. We 
would not dampen the mirth of these joyous people 
by our i)resence. 

On a new sign from Belton, dance music strikes 
up; the men engage their partners and Hand as if 



waiting hafoTs. foTr^^irlg the quadrille. While this 
is going on, enter Lord Ernest and Sir Arthur ivho 
go forward and how to Lord Alcott and the ladies ; 
Lordu Ernest remaining by Lilian's side. 

Gas. — {turning round) AVliat are tiit' daucers Avait- 
ing- for? ^^ hy do tliey not comiiKiiice ! 

Tony comes forward, somewhat aiakwai'dly, 
pushed by tTi3 croivd; Belton seems annoyed by this 
unexpected episode, and stands watching him; To- 
ny stands twirling his hat and' bowing to the com- 
pany. 

Tony. — [embarrassed and stammering to Lord Al- 
cott] Please your lioiior and the ladies present and 
the Honorable Mi\ Gaston — I do not know — if — if I 
dare express — that is, if I dare take the liberty to 
express — to yonr lordship — 

Gas. — [kindly] Speak, my good fellow ; what ean 
I do to give yon i>leasure 1 

The crowd: ''Yes, speah! goon! go on!" 

Tony. — [continuing] 1 wish to say to your lord- 
ship and these ladies here present — 

The crowd: '*0h! oh!" Belton v. lalces an impa- 
tient gesture to Tony to go on. 

Tony.— {still embarrassed, and stnmmering) Hi wish 
to say— that we would be so particularly hapi)y— so 
extensively gratified— so mightily honored— if— 

The crowd, luith impatience, "Oh! go on ! go on !'' 

B¥uL.—{kmghing aside) I fear I shall have to run 
for a corkscrew to draw the words out of that fellow's 
mouth. A fine spokesmai; they have chosen, truly ! 

Gas. -Well, young man? 

Tony.— If— if— (.s'i</?is of ly-ijjatience from the crowd) 
well ! if you vv^ould open the dance with Miss Flor- 
ence, your future bride -[^v(r«i«Y/ to the croivd] There! 
I've said it ! 

TJie crowd hecive a sigh of relief. 

Bel, — [aside] At last! Weil, he did get it out 
without the aid of a corkscrew., after all! 

Gas, — [smiling] Certainly! with the greatest pleas- 
ure! Come, Florence. 



30 IiILIAM'8 PROMISE. 

Gaston takes Florence's hand, places her ann in 
his, and mahes a rnovement to join the dancers; 
hut stops on seeing Tony still standing in the same 
place, tivirlinghis hat in his fingers. 

Ld. A.—{a'imfiSed^ to Lilian) Lilian, is iiot this oiw 
of your proteges, tlie fislierm ail's sou? 

LiL. -YeSj dear uucle, aud sucli a desersiug, good, 
liouest young man he is! So devoted to his vridowed 
motlier and little . sister. You would esteem him 
highly, if you knew him as I do. 

B^i^.—fafiide, loolmig at Tony] Well, what more! I 
wonder what the young fellow is up to, now! This 
is an "impromptu" I had no idea of; but they all 
appear am u seel, so let it go. 

Gas.. ---Rave you auytliing more to say, young 
manf 

Thecrojvd: ''Jfo! no!" 

Toi^Y.--(sfiU liesitoihig and stammermg a little) Yes, 
your lordship—a little private business of my own— 
this time— 

Bel— Why, the fellow's tongue is getting a little 
more glib, all of a sudden ; vv hat the deuce is he 
after?'' 

ToKY«»I wish to requ(;st of Miss Lilian, sir, the 
excess! vehon or of this dance, if she will grant it me. 

'B'FiL,.— (raising Ms liand in amazemtnt) Well, I nev- 
<t! No woudor his tongue was loosened; a pretty 
girl was in the question. The audacious fellow! 
Miss Lilian, indeed! 

JaIu.— (rising ivith cdcwrity) Certainly, Tony, I will 
dance this quadrille with you, with pleasure. 

Ld. E.--Miss Lilian, you do not mean it ! Surely 
you are not going to dance with that boor \ 

LiL.— And why not, I pray you ? Lord Ernest, as 
noble a heart beats under that rude exterior as any 
gentleman VL\i\y hQ YivovA of . (to Tony:) Here is my 
hand, Tony. 

Tony takes her hand gladly and with much re- 
spect, and they walk toward the dance. The crowd 
sf touting again : "Hurrah! hitrrah! Long live 
Miss Lilian, our sweet young mistress!'' Gaston 



(Hid Florence on one side, Lilian and Tony foriii- 
ing their vis-a-vis; Pierre ships forward, with Lot- 
tie, and another cowple from tlie crowd form their 
vis-a-vis; on a sign from Belton tli3 music stari^sup; 
they dance. 

Ld. E.— (fo hd, AJcottj icith conceidrated an<je,' and 
pointing to LiUan) Does your Lor{lslii]j approve of 
this I Miss Lilian? 

Ld. a.— Oil, she is a priA ileged (haracter; onr Li I 
iaii; she cannot do wrong! 

Ld. ^.— {shrugging his shoulders and seating himself; 
aside) Bnt this was to have been my dance. Con- 
found that fellow ! 

When Pierre's tuii'i comes to dance, he skips round 
nice a dancing master, to Belton's great amuse- 
ment, who walks around the dancers, eying Pierre 
with a curious, critical expression; he stops at 
times with his hands on his knees or in his pockets, 
laughing in a subdued way. 

Bel.--- Well! that's what it takes, I suppose, to 
make np a Frenchman— 'd quick wit, shallow braiiis, 
and plenty of quicl'silvcr in the pedal extremities. 
Ha ! ha ! 'tis the first one I have come in <M)ntact 
with. I wonder if he is a true specimen of his coun- 
try? ha! ha! 

The dancing ceases and the dancers return to their 
2)kwes, Lilian to her uncle's side; Florence., led by Gas- 
ton, to where Sir Arthur is seated, icho rises as they 
approacli; Belton makes the crowd retreat; dancing 
music continues behind the scenes; the sku^ing of the 
dancers^ feet is heard but all in a snbaued tone. 

Gas. — [to Florence] With your permission, Flor- 
ence, I wdl leave you in Sir Arthur's care for a little 
while; I must have a dance with my Cousin Lilian, 
before she is carried of^'by others, [he goes toward the 
group] T think you promised me a dance, fair cousin, 
and I have come to claim it. 

LiL. — [casting a timid glance toward Florence who is 
observing her] 1 should be most huppy — but — Loi'd 
Belgrade— [Gaston holes toicard Lord Ernest, who 
bows, and says:] 



32 ri^II^IAM^® FM€i^Ml{§E. 

Ld. E.— ( ■ertaiiily, sir; certainly! \asi(ie] What a 
fool I ani ! to allow niv promised paitner to be car- 
ried off, first by tluit country ho'^r^ then by tliis big-li- 
boru vagabond. I vronder if lie thinks be is going 
to cany all before bin), beie. scarcely a week has 
(^lai)sed since bis arrival, and be expects to aiake ev- 
ery one bend to bis supreme will, f Gaston has placed 
.IA(ian''s arm hi his, and leads ker off gaily toward the 
dancing outHide; Lord Ernest lools after them angrily J 
This is a pretty piece of business, to be sure ! Here I 
am to stand twirling my tiugers, while sbe goes oif 
with that top. Tbe sweet girl must tbink me a per- 
te(it spooney to rebnquish n:iy claim so readily. 1 
must kee}) a sbar}) look out, or be will cairy off my 
intended bride in as masterly a style as be lias my 
partner. Confound bim ! 

Ld. a . — Hovv' is it, Lord Ernest, I tbougbt you 
were about to join tbe dancers.^ 

Ld. E. — I tbougbt so, too, milord; but I bave re- 
vsigned tbis dance to your son. Miss Lilian will hon- 
or me with the next, I presume. 

¥IjO.— {seated on the opposite side witJt )Sir Arthur , 
has foUoiced all this scene with eager eyes; she seems 
ahsti acted in thought, and pvtsses her hand to Jhy heart, 
as if ill pain icud with a sudden j)ang exclaims, aside) 1 
knew^ It I I feel it.^ I cannot avert tbe ciiiel fate that 
•awaits me/ 

Sin An.—{hai rratched hex closely, aud when he 
spc?J:'-. lo hcT, she i:: sats fwm hev rei^m^;, and seems not 
to Itccd what he i ? . i-^ying) Will not Miss Florence 
^}:ro.nt me tlie favjr < fa (piadrille? Let us also essay 
the exhilaration of the dance, to dispel the gloom 
which bangs like an incubus over us both, (with 
hitteYuvus) Tb.ere is so much bapi^iness afloat tbis 
evening, perhapr, some small i)ortion may fall to our 
sliare.' 

Flo, — Sir Arthur, I pray you to excuse me ; I am 
vreary with the excitements of the week. I shall not 
daiu?e again, this evening. 

Sir Ar. -Florence, you are nothapijy; I read it 
in every line of your featiux^s. Once more I conjure 



LILIAN'S PROMISE. 33 

you, do not cast from you the sure happiness whicli 
awaits you, for a bubble which may burst in your 
hands. Florence, listen to me ; reflect ; there is still 
time — 

Fi^o. '-{rising indignantly) Your promise, Sir Ar- 
thur; have you already forgotten it! Three weeks 
still remain of the time you have yourself allotted for 
a final explanation. 

Sir Ar. — You say truly ; but the sight of your pale 
and anxious countenance caused me to forget all 
else but yom^ suffering. Three weeks, under cer- 
tain circumstances, seems an eternity! (om a move- 
ment from Florence) Pardon me ; I will not again in- 
cur your reproaches, [they reseat themselves; Gaston 
and Lilian return to the front.) 

Ld. E. — {meeting Lilian as she advances and taking 
her hand) It is my turn now, Miss Lilian, is it not I 

Gas. — {seeming to resign her reluctantly) I resign 
you for a while, my little cousin, but we must have 
some more dances together before the evening is 
over, [he goes over to Florence, while Lord Frnest and 
Lilian go otit to join the dance] What shall we do, 
Florence? 1 am entirely at your disposal. Shall it 
be a dance or a promenade ? 

Flo. — A promenade if you please, away from the 
mirthful crowd ; the noise, the excitement fatigues 
me. I would fain be alone with you for a while; 
we have so much to talk over — so much to think 
over. Let us seek some retired nook where we can 
enjoy a quiet conversation and recall the reminis- 
(;enses of our hapx)y childhood. 

(tAS. — [with hesitation and a glance toward the dan- 
cers] As you wish, Florence; we will try the cypress 
grove, [exeimt Florence and Gaston] 

Sir Ar. — [soliloquizing] There is a misery in the 
atmosphere to-night; something in^ophetic in the 
sighing of the wind — in the murmurings of the river; 
above all the din and festive mirth which fill the air, 
I teel its cold, dreary approach. I am not given to 
fancies, but there is something unwonted that dami)s 
my spirit, and makes me tremble for the happiness 



34 LILIAN'S PROJWISE. 

of the only woman I ever soiiglit to win. Alas! poor 
Florence ! When the hour of trial comes, will she 
cling to me for sui)port? Noble girl! her happiness 
must not be wrecked by a selfish, unfeeling hand. I 
will watch oveT and save her, despite herself. [Sir 
Arthur turns to Lord Aleott who nts alone^ seeming 
pensive:] Are you not well, Lord Alcott? Yon 
are not looking your brightest this morning ! Your 
fe(*lings, like my own, can not, perhaps, attune them- 
selves to the unusual sounds that greet our ears on 
every side. 

Ld. A. -You are right, Sir Arthur ; each one of the 
gladsome bursts of laughter re-echoes painfully in 
my heart -, the memories of these last sad years are 
still too fresh to be subdued ; they will rush back at 
times with overwhelming force. But it is not right 
to impart our sadness to the youthful, joyous spirit 
of those around us. I will withdraw myself for a 
while from these gay scenes, and seek in the retire- 
ment of my library, a solace for the sadness that op- 
presses me. 

8iE Ar,- -But Avill not the loneliness enhance the 
gloom f 

Ld. a. -Not so ; in the companionship of the phi- 
losophers of antiquity, my thoughts will be diverted 
into another channel. 

SiE An.- -If you will allow me, my lord, I will be 
your companion and share your studies; It is not 
good that sorrow should dwell alone. 

Ld. a. -I thank you i()r your kind offer, Sir Ar- 
thur, and will accept it. It will not be the first oc- 
casion on which we have sought together the teach- 
ings of the old masters, 

Exeunt Lord Alcott and Sir Arthur. Enter Lil- 
ian; she looks around to see if sl^e is not observed; 
she seats herself in a dejected attitude. 

LiL.-Alone at last .' I am so weary ! My assumed 
gayety has quite exhausted me. Lord Ernest's un- 
tiring devotion has annoyed me beyond expression, 
and yet I would not wound his feelings, he is so 
kind, he bears so patiently all my rebuffs. But what 



L.IL.IAIV'8 PROMISE. 35 

a contrast to my Cousin Gaston! He lias seen so 
much of the woiid; every word of his is interesting; I 
could listen to him forever, while the conversation of 
Lord Ernest is vapid, insipid ; he can speak of little 
else than hunting and horses. My Cousin Gaston is 
all lire and enthusiasm; there is a manliness, an ap- 
i:)earance of protection in his look and manner. I am 
so g'lad for dear Cousin Florry's sake. She will find 
in him all that heart could desire. They will be so 
happy, {slie heaves a sigli) I wonder where my un- 
cle is f I must go in search of him ; but I am so tired! 
(she takes a mi mature from her pocket and opens it J 
My Cousin Gast( n is decidedly handsome. This was 
taken ten years ago; he is not greatly changed — 
somewhat older and more serious, but the expressi\'e 
eyes and well formed mouth are just the same. I 
found it on the floor in the library. My uncle must 
have dropped it ; 1 must take it back, f Gaston en- 
ters in the re'dr of the .ntage and pauses on perceiving 
Liliany still C'mtemplating the miniature) 

Gas.— fasidej At last I have found her. She has 
avoided me all evening and sHpped away at my ap- 
proach like a will-o the-wisp. I am curious to dis- 
cover the meaning of her conduct. Ha ! a miniaturel 
she steals away to contemplate it alone; her lover, I 
suppose, (he approaches steaJthily and peeps over her 
shoulder^ and with great surprise ei'claims] My pict- 
ure ! 

Lilian^ staHs, utters a stifled cry, closes the min- 
iature hastily, and Hse-s as if to withdraw ; Gas- 
ton seizes her hand and gently compels lier to re- 
seat lierself. 

LiL. --Oh, please do not detain me! I was going 
to seek my uncle. I am sure he is calling for me. 

Gas. -I can not let you go just yet, my little cous- 
in. I need some compensation for the famous chase 
you have giA en me. I fancied, at last, that I was 
pursuing an ignis fatuus which was luring me on to 
destruction. You so suddenly disappeared when I 
thought I had you just within my reach. Truly, you 
remind me of the words of the poet: <'Airy, fairy 



36 LILIAIV'Ji; PROMISE. 

Lilian, Flitting fairy Lilian;" may I quote the rest, 
fair (M)iisin I 

\AL.—{quieldi)) It is not necessary ; 1 am well ac- 
quainted with the lines, and tliey are riot at all ap- 
propriate! But to return to what we were saying. 
You need not be surprised at my thus evading your 
search ; for you are not so familiar as 1 am with the 
resoun^es of the forest. 

Gas. -You cheated me out of all the dances I 
l)romised myself with you; why were you so unkind? 
I think you are prejuciced against me; I shall not 
let you go until you explain your conduct. 

LiL.-{JaughiiH/) Well, if you insist upon an exjda- 
nation. I will acknowledge that I indulged in a lit- 
tle gameof hide and-seek; but it was not you, alone, 
who instigated ni\ flight. I tied from a gentleman 
whose persistent attentions become, at times, so un- 
endurable; he i)oured such sweet uonsense into my 
ear, that 1 sickened of it. I could uot rid myself of 
him, so I ran away. 

GAS.--May I inquire the name of your adorer I 

LiL. -I presented liim to you on the day of your 
arrival-Lord Ernest Belgrade, 

Gas.- -Why, Florence told me he was an accepted 
suitor, that he loxed you passionately, and that you 
returned his love. 

LiL. -Oh ! that was unkind and treacherous in 
Florence. T have ever felt kindly towards Lord Er- 
nest, but F'loren('e knows that I have declined his 
proffered hand on more than one occasion. 

Gas. ---Probably Florenc^e was jesting, or perhaps 
1 misunderstood the name. If, then. Lord Ernest is 
not the man of your choice, may T inquire the name 
of the favored one, to see if I approve of j^our selec- 
tion ? 

Lih.- -[laughing] You need not trouble yourself on 
that score, cousin; I have no love for any man, un- 
less for my unctle. He i)ossesses all the aftection, the 
devotion of my heart; there is no room in it for more. 

Gas.— T am delighted to learn that you cherish 
this filial love and devotion for my dear father; but 



lillilAX'!^ PROMISE. 37 

tliis AVill not always suffice to your young, loyiug 
heart, just awakeuiug to all that is beautiful in na- 
ture; you will some day feel the want of a still dearer 
tie; when that da}^ dawns upon you, child, thrice 
happy the man upon whom yon will bestow j^our 
choice ; upon whom will fall the inestimable blessing 
of your first, pure, entire love. 

Lilian staii^led again, rises to go; Gaston gently 
detains her. 

LiL. — Oh I Cousin Gaston you should not speak to 
me thus! {aside) What v/ould Cousin Florence say! 
{aloud) I must go. I pray you detain me no longer. 

Gas. — You little, gentle, frightened deer! Have I 
pained you 'I I would not for the world. Gome and 
sit beside me for a moment; let your little weary 
feet rest a while, or I shall fancy you some mischiev- 
ous sprite sent expressly to torment us poor mortals, 
to fascinate^ bewilder for a moment, then disappear 
from sight. Lilian, I have traveled far and wide, 
over mountain range and sandj' plain — 

LiL. — {Interrupting eagerly^ asif she felt relief ) Oh, 
yes ! tell me of your travels. I would so like to hear 
the recital of all you ha^e seen, of all the dangers 
you have encountered. 

Gas. — You shall hear them all, my sweet maiden, 
but not now ; the tale will serve to enliven the long 
winter evenings. But to continue what I was about 
to say : I have gazed upon nature in her grandest 
form, her most rugged aspect, her loveliest garb; I 
have climbed the most inaccessible slopes in search 
of some rare and beautiful flower; I have gathered 
the choicest flora everywhere ; but the sweetest, lo^-- 
liest flower I have seen — 

LiL. — {interrupting tvith naivete) What was the 
name of that sweet flower, Cousin Gaston, I do so 
dote upon flowers. 

Gas. — [with hesitation] It's name.^ It's name is 
Lilian ! 

LiL. — [springs up with affrighted holi] Oh! Cousin 
Gaston ! 



38 I.II.IAW'^0 FI1$I*MI^K. 

He seizes her hand to detain her, hut she disen- 
gages herself and escapes; Florence enters in the 
lear, fionv the center, ohserving hini; he follows 
Lilian'. 

FLO.--Gaston/ liere alone! Whom is Lie iookiug after 
80 anxiously "l 1 see no one. His eonduct this evening- 
is more than strange. His mind seemed constantly 
absorbed by thouglits in which 1 had no share. {Sud- 
denly he left me, and I saw him no more. Where 
has he been ail this timef and with whom? Could 
I but know he has been x)laying me false! that he 
loves me not ! But no ! away v^ith doubts ! I will 
not yield to their soul-haiTO'SAing inliuence that would 
mar the joy of our re-union. Lilian? no, it can 
not be ; she is so truthful, and she has promised. I 
am sure of Gaston^s love. Has he riot assured me 
that he iias p.e\ er loved but me ! (.sJie goes toivard the 
tree where Lilian and Gaston had been seated; shestojjs 
and iiieks up the medalHon which Lilian had dropped, 
and opens it.] Gaston's picture. I have seen this be- 
fore; it belongs to my uncle; he must have dropped 
it here ; 1 will return it to iiim. [she drops it in her 
pocJict.] 

Enter Gaston ; she approaches him. 

Ltl. — Have you been seeking nie, Gaston '? 

Gas. — I missed you from the grounds, and thouglit 
you had retired. The night is far advanced. We 
must get some rest before the day dawns upon us. 
Let me conduct you to the castle, [she ial<es his arm; 
exeunt. 



Scene 2nd— A library in the castle; Lord Alcott is aslseep in a large fanteuil. 
Sir Arthur atleep en a couch neai a able spread wi h books; Lilian enters 
dressed in v/hite, with natural flov.'ers in her hair; she goes toward her uncle. 

LiL. — Why uncle, surely not sleeping here at this 
late hour! The sun is high in the heavens, and we 
have all breakfasted. 1 thought you were slum- 
bering soundly in your room, and that I would not 
awake you! 



Ld. A.—[aica]{infj suddenly and riibbinfj ks eyes] 
Ble^sme! where am I? sleeping in the iibraiy, eli i 
[Jaughing] Yes, yes, I remember. Sir Arthur and I 
were discussing some rather knotty questions and we 
talked ourselves^ or rather eacli oilier^ into uncon- 
sciousness, I suppose. But where is hef he, too, 
must be asleep somewhere around. 

LiL. — [discovers Sir Arthur just aivaMng^ laughing 
heartily) Well, j^ou must have passed a most delight- 
ful evening together to judge In^ the soporiiic elle(;ts 
of your learned conversation; it must have been en- 
tertaining to the last degree. 

Ld. a. — You forge , my child, that it was almost 
daylight ere we left the garden. 

Sir Ar. — [rising) Miss Lilian, T have the honor to 
salute you, this lovely moriiing, not more lovely than 
yoiu" bright self, however. You seem to bring with 
you all the dewy freshness and fragrance of the flow- 
ers you have been gathering, and wdiich so well 
adorn your youthful brow. 

IjD. a.— Yes, my little morning glory is i\\G first 
flower that blooms and sheds its sweet perfume 
around us. A little pale, this morning, my darling ; 
too much dancing, too much pleasure, eh? 

LiL.— Yes, dear uncle, that is all. I am quite un- 
used to such late hours, [her features assume a sad ex- 
pression; she passes hor hand across her broic) 

hitter Florence and Gaston ivlw excJiange the 
us nal salutations ; Lilian achnowleclges the salu- 
tation of Gaston coldly, and strives to avoid him. 

(jrA.B.—[in a low tcrae to her) Are you displeased 
with me, Lilian? Do not treat me with such cold- 
ness. I will not be guilty of such indiscretion again. 
Pardon me, if I have i^ained you. Believe me, I 
deeply regret it. 

Florence observes this apart: Lilian catches her 
angry look; looks displeased and exclaims to Gas- 
ton : 

LiL.— Oh, hush, Cousin Gaston.^ Cease this folly, 
I conjure you. Do you not see that you are torturing 
me? [Lilian seems about to faint) 



40 IiIL.IAI\^'8 FII©MI5^E. 

Gas. — [aside] Wliat have I done to distress her 
thus f 

Ga^on stretches out his aiiix to support her, hut 
Florence spHngs forward and interposes, pushes 
Gaston aside, and throws her arm around- Lilian, 
who recovers herself, and passes over to Lord Alcott, 
andj leans on him for support. 

Ld. a.— Sir Arthur, you and I had better adjourn 
to the breakfast room! I trust these keen young ap- 
petites have left us something to appease our hun- 
ger. Come at once. 

Flo. -Oh, uncle, before you go, let me return this 
miniature, which you dropped in the garden last 
night. I know it is a precious souvenir ; here it is. 
[extending her hand with the miniature] 

Ld. A.—[tali:ing it^ and opening it] Gaston's portrait.^ 
You found it in the garden, die! you say? How came 
it there? I did not have it with me. 

Liiu.—liiinocentJy] It w^as I who must have dropped 
it, uncle. 

Fi.0.— [pressing her hand upon her heart] Oh ! then 
it was she who was with him. My forebodings did 
not deceive me! [ihe passes round to Lilian and seizes 
her hand violently) False girl ! you have betrayed 
your promise! I hate you.' I spurn you! (she casts 
" her hand from her riidely) 

LiL.— Oh, Florence, you are unjust! (she fulls faint- 
ing in her uncle's arms) 

Ld. a.— What ails the child ! I saw that she was 
pale, and had a look of suffering this morning. The 
excitements of the day and evening have proved too 
much for my little girl. 

Lord Alcott hears Lilian tender'ly in his aims and 
places her upon the couch; all crowd around her 
except Florence, who gazes upon the group with an- 
<3ry, scornful eyes; Gaston kneels hy her side while 
he clasps her hand ; Florence seems ahout to rush 
towards them, when Sir AHhur lays his hand up- 
on her arm and arrests the action. 



lillilAlV'S PROMISE. 41 

Sm A.—fgoes over to Florence; in a low tone) Be 
prudent, Florence / Control your emotions / Your 
feelings are too strongly depicted on your counte- 
nance; others may read them, as I do. [Florence 
makes a movement of impatience] Eemember, Flor- 
ence, Avhen all else tails you, 1 am still your steadfast 
friend. [Florence repulses him with angry gesture) 

Ld. a. — My pet, my darling, are you better f 

LiL. — {gradually recovering) My dear, dear uncle! 
{seeing Gaston kneeling near her holding her hand, she 
withdraws it angrily j and strives to rise from the couch, 
saying:) Oh! uncle, take me away from here! Any- 
where, anywhere, I care not whither ! 

Ld. a. — {encircling her tvith his arms; in an angry 
voice) What is going on here; who is tormenting 
this innocent, joyous child? {turning to Florence) Is 
this your work, Florence ? {Florence turns aside and 
drops her head) 

LiL. — Oh, no, dear uncle; Florence is not to blame. 
Do not speak unkindly to her ; it is all my fault, if I 
am feeling badly this morning ; 'tis the result of last 
night's fatigue. The fresh air will soon revive me. 
I am feeling better already. 

Ld. a. — Come, then, my child ; \he places his arm 
around her] no harm shall reach you here. In these 
arms you shall ever find shelter and protection, [he 
walks proudly out tvith Lilian, casting an angry look 
toivards Florence, tvho bows her head meekly. Exit 
Lord Alcott and Lilian, 

Sir a. — [aside, going out] The storm I predicted 
is gathering fast around us. How many hearts will 
bleed, or i)erhaps be broken, ere its fury is allayed. 
[Exit Sir ArtMir] 

Gastojh seats Uimself hy the table, leaning his 
head upon his hand as if in deep thought. 

Flo. — [observing him] Kot one word, not one look 
for me — his affianced, [after a pause] This silence is 
dreadful. I can not endure it! Better his displeas- 
ure, his anger than this utter disregard, [she advances 
toward the :able] Gaston! 



42 LIIilAM'S PROMISE. 

Gas. — {startled and rising) Are you here, Florence 1 
Oil, excuse me ! I thought myself alone, or rather, 
in the confusion of my brain, 1 had forgotten my 
own identity amid the painful thoughts that assail 
me. Florence, my return, I fear, has been fraught 
with misery to all; instead of being the harbinger of 
hai^piness, it seems I have destroyed it. Better, far 
better, that I shoukl again turn my back ui^on my 
home, than remain to cast a shadow — perhaps de- 
spair on these young lives, which, until now, have 
glided on so peacefully, so joyously beneath its i>ro- 
tecting walls. 

Flo. — (clinging to him ivith tears in htr voice) Oh! 
Gaston, do not speak thus. Would you leave me 
your affianced bride, so soon to be called your o mil 
In three short weeks, when we shall be united, we 
miglit seek together the excitement of that other life 
you still seem to cling to. Have you forgotten, Gas- 
ton, that 3'our father, with your approval, has fixed 
our marriage day for the 14th, just three weeks fr >m 
the present day 1 

GAii-(adfie) Our marriage just three weeks from to- 
day! {aloud) Florence, listen 2 When we parted years 
ago, we were mere children, not knowing our own 
hearts; all was hope and sunshine; life was clouded 
with no doubts, no fears; but now, Florence, that 
our hearts and minds are more matured, we can not 
assume such engagements lightly. The marriage 
tie, with its sacred obligatiwis, presents itself in a 
different aspect ; its solemnity demands more time 
for reflection. Separation has somewhat estranged 
us. Our dispositions may have undergone great 
changes. We need time to become acquainted again, 
to learn to love and appreciate each other. One 
month is too short when the happiness of a life time 
is at stake. Am I not right, dear Florence '? Does 
not your own noble nature and good sense approve 
mei 

Flo.— Oh! Gaston, what cruel words are these! 
My heart has ever been the same towards you, pa- 
tiently waiting, faithfully hoping. It needs no 



month's delay to teach me if I love you, if I am wil- 
ling to accept you as the i)artner, the companion of 
my life. You love me not, Gaston, or you could nor 
reason thus ; your heart is estranged from me — j er- 
liaps vou love another. \)rith a cry of despair] Liii<;n! 
Lihan! 

Gas. — (turning qu cl'li/and sdzing her hand J Hu^h.' 
Florence, not that name ! f aside J Poor child ! Conid 
I bring sorrow to that sweet, innocent life! It nuust 
not, shall not be! Sooner will 1 bid farewell to my 
home forever! [turniiiij to Florence] Forgive uie, 
Florence! Let us say no more at i^resent. Some 
other time, wlien our emotions have subsided, which 
we can not now sufliciently control, we will speak of 
it again. I will go for a ramble in the forest, with 
my gun upon my shoulder. The cool, refreshhig air, 
the harmonious warblings of the birds, will calm and 
soothe my x)erturbed spirit. Alone with nature, its 
^'oice may counsel and console me. We part not in 
anger, Florence f 

He holds out his hand to he?% in which she places 
hers; he contemplrites her thus sadly and silently 
for a moment then drops her hand gently, and goes 
sloiuly out. Florence presses her hand' to her hroio, 
asif in despair, and sinhs on a chair, exclaiming 
in an agonizing voice: <?*-«-- 

Flo. — Oh! 'tis plain it is not f he lo^'es. No ! no! 
it is not Ijjtis Lilian, Lilian who has robbed me of 
his heart, after all those years of unchanging love 
and all abiding faith. 

Lilian appears at the door as Florence utters the 
last words. She is veiij pale and comes toivards 
F lorence; she kneels beside her and entwines her 
arms around her. 

LiL. — Florry, dearest, look at me; 'tis Lilian who 
loves you, and will ever be true to you. 

Flo. — [repnUimi her] Leave me! leave me, faith- 
less, heartless girl! You, alone are the cause of all 
my misery. You have robbed me of the heart I 
prized more than life: and do vou come to me now 



44 LIIilAN'S PROMISE. 

to inflict 8onie keener suffering on my aching heart! 
or to deceive me by some new promise ? (xo ! go ! I 
will trust you no longer. Go to bim your lures have 
won. Exult in your victory, and leave me to my 
wretchedness. 

LiL. — [still clinging to her tcith tendernessj You 
wrong me, Florence. I have broken no promise. 
The word I pledged remains unshaken in its integ- 
rity. Your Lilian could never stand in the way of 
your happiness. You will see, darling, what an art- 
ful little fairy 1 am. I will bring it all about, just 
a's you desire. Oh! do not doubt me. Gaston shall 
be your husband — only trust in me. 

Flo.— Your ])rojects are in vain, dear Lilian. Gas- 
ton loves you ; has he not told you so f 

TjIL. -l!^o, dear Florence, never have such words 
passed his lips. He does not, shall fiot love me. Be 
comforted; he is all your own. Bnt come, let us 
banish all these (corroding doubts. Lt rd Ernest with 
our ponies is waiting for us at the porch. When we 
have galloped a few miles and jumped a few ditches, 
our troubles will sit more lightly on our shoulders. 
Come dear cousin, let us i)rotit by the lovely morning. 

Liliaih puts her aim around Florence's waist to 
lead her off; as Lilian and. Florence approach the 
door they meet Lord Alcott and tSir Arthur coining 
in; Lord Alcott shows pleasure at seeing them thus 
togetlur; he clasps them both in an embrace. 

Ld. A. -Bless you, my children! It gladdens my 
heart to see you thus reunited as of old. How is my 
little girl now? Pale and languid yet! Go, my 
children, your ponies are at the door, go enjoy this 
bright, bracing weather, and return to me with glow- 
ing cheeks and joyous looks. 

SiR. A. -Miss Florence, if you will permit me, I 
will be yonr groom upon this occasion, and assist 
you in your mount; or, I would crave a still greater 
lavor and beg you to allow me to join the cavalcade, 
to assist Lord Belgrade in watching over your safety. 
Miss Lilian is such a dauntless rider she will require 
all his care. 



lillilAIV'J^ PROMISE. 45 

Flo.— We will be most liappy to avail ourselves 
of your kind offer, Sir Arthur, (they go out) 

Lord Alcott, solus, stands looking after them. 

Ld. a.— Despite her effort at cheerfulness, there 
is something in Lilian's exi)ression that speaks of 
sorrow and sacrifice. Her innocent happy look has 
fled. She seems suddenly to have gl0^vn into a 
woman. What can it be? I must question her. 
Sorrow shall find no abiding i^lace on the brow of 
my darling, if I can prevent it. 

Curtain falls. 



ACT 3rd. 



Scene ist.--The -".heater represents a closed parlor; tinne, evening. 

When the curtain rises, there is no light in the 
parlor; Belton is seated in his master's aim-chair 
by the table, snoHng; he holds a corkscrew in his 
hand. Enter Pierre and Lottie; the former with 
lighted candelabra which he places on the table ; 
they both spy Belton still asleep and stand looking 
at him, Lottie holding her sides with laughter, 
Pierre dumbfounded. 

Pierre. — Yy, Mamselle Lottie, that Monsieur 
Belton! he take life easy, n'est ce pas? See, see! 
(holding up Belton'' s hand in which is the corl^screiv) me 
understand ; he put de good vine in de bottles for de 
vedding to-morrow. Ha! ha! and he taste too much 
de good ^ine ! he like de good ^ine, and he keep it 
all for himself, de ole rogue! [he shakes Belton vio- 
lently) Halloa! you dignified HingUshman! Vake 



46 I^ILIAN'S PROMISE. 

up, vake up ! If master catch you liere, he make 
you dauce one time. Halloa ! vake up, vake up ! He 
sleep sound ! {Lottie looks on laugMng, heartily enjoy - 
ing thejol<e) 

Bel. — [arousing^ mid shaMng hwiself) What's the 
matter? What's the matter f Is the house afi ire? 
[stretching out his arm) Why, what is the matter 
with my arm / I remember, some one was punching 
me. I'd like to know who dared/ why, it fairly 
aches ! [he looJcs around and spies Pierre laughing; he 
jumps up and tries to grab him; Pierre sMps aside and 
evades him] You French scoundrel, you / Did you 
dare lay your hands on me.^ You better get out of 
my way, or I will teach you the weight ot a Hinglish- 
man's list, and you will never return for a second 
trial. [Pierre skips around to evade Belton'^s Motes; 
Belton chases hi7n\ Get out of here, you French dog! 
and don't let me see you in this room any more when 
Jam in it. Go! go! [he tries to drive Pierre fro^n the 
room, but he s]s.ips around to Lottie^ side and pulls her 
by the dress] 

PiERKE. — Mamselle Lottie, you no stay here vit 
that angry nmn, you go vit me. 

Lot. — [her hands in her pockety courtesying to Pierre] 
No, sir, you go; I wish to stay here; I have some- 
thing important to say to Mr. Belton. [Aiming her 
back to Pierre and looking at him over her shoulder] 
Go, now! Go! 

Pierre. — [with entreating gesture] Oh, Mamselle 
Lottie! you no send me away; me be so quiet; me 
no speak. Me stay! me stay! 

Lottie turns around, stamps her foot, and looks 
at him fiercely, whereupon Pierre slowly reti^eats 
backwards, making implo7%n£ gestures to Lottie all 
the time; he disappears at the door, but again opens 
it softly and looks in, but upon an angi^ gesture 
from Lottie, disappears, and does not return. 

Bel.— Bravo, Miss Lottie! that is the most sensi- 
ble thing have done yet. I still have hope that you 
will one day be called Mrs. Belton. 



lilLIAI^'S PR01IIJ!^E. 47 

Lot. — {shrugging her shoulders) Dou't you be too 
sure of that! 1 doiit marry men who fall asleep in 
their master's imrlor, a corlscrew iu their hands. No, 
not I. 

Bel. — [embarrassed] Hem ! hem ! [approacMng Lot- 
tie] hem! Did you really think, Miss Lottie, that 
that poor, innocent corJcscreiv had anything to do 
with it? You never made a greater mistake in your 
life, I can tell you. The fact is, I was up late last 
night making preparations for the wedding, w hicli is 
fixed for to-morrow, the 14th5 there is now a month 
since our young lord's return. I w as tired and fell 
asleep, I suppose, while resting a few moments in 
this comfortable seat; w here's the harm? It certain- 
ly does invite to slumber. 

Lot. — Well, I suppose I must take your w ord for 
it, but f laughing saucily) you had better leave the 
corhsereiv behind next time, or malicious people — 
might suppose — you understand, Mr. Belton? (he 
turn ] away ivith evident annoyance) ^N^ot that I doubt 
your word in the least — but; — 

Bel. — [ical^ing towards the table] What are all 
these boxes, pray? Where did they come from? 

Lot. — These are the wedding jiresents, I suppose. 
They have this moment arrived ; just in time, for 
to-morrow is the 14th, the day fixed for the w^edding. 
I say, Mr. Belton, can you tell me wiiat is going on 
here ? I never saw anything so mysterious. Here 
we are on the eve of the w^edding day, and not a sin - 
gle preparation has been made, no orders given to 
decorate the house, not a word said about the ap- 
proaching eA- ent. The young people are all sad, and 
strive to get out of each other's way. Mr. Gaston 
spends his days in hunting. I never heard of such 
courting as this. I know it would not suit me. But 
the quality have always a queer, unnatural way of 
doing things. 

Bel.— You are quite right, Miss Lottie. I can not 
understand it any more than yourself. 

Lot.— Why, the old castle is more gloomy than 
it was before Mr. Gaston came home. 



48 lillilAX'S PROMISE. 

Bel.— And the strangest part of all is that uiy 
old master seems as much puzzled to make it out as 
any body. I judge so from words he dropped when 
I was waiting on him. But his greatest anxiety 
seems to be concerning IVIiss Lilian. He said this 
moriung: "She looks like a hangel about to take her 
flight to another sphere." Aud indeed she does. 
She goes about like one Avalking in a dream; and 
jMiss Florence is not much better; and as for Mr. 
Gaston, he lives in the open air. Well, 1 sux)pose 
they understand what they are about, and it will all 
come right in the end, but the deuce take me if 1 can 
guess what it all means. 

Lot.— Don't you know, Mr. Belton, these grand 
people have such odd notions about propriety and 
all that, instead of getting married at once and done 
with it. 

1 >EL. — That's so, Lottie. Their style wouldn't suit 
you. They are not like you and Pierre, running af- 
ter each other from morning till night, billing and 
cooing like two turtle-doves. 

Lot. — Fie, Mr. Belton ! That is sheer invention. 
Suppose I was to talk of all you drink in the cellar, 
when bottling the Master's choice wines? If you 
•have sharp eyes, so have I, you perceive. 

Bel. — Hush! hush! Some one might hear you. 
[he ivaJka around the room peeping through the doors 
and windoirs] 

IjOT. — What are you looking for ? 

Bel. — I am looking to see if that confounded 
Frenchman is not lurking in some corner with those 
long ears of his, as he often does when I am talking 
to you. 

JjOT. —{ynischievonsly) you were not so afraid of 
being overheard a few minutes ago! But I will be 
silent, if you will. Secret for secret. 

Bel. — Never fear; I'll not betray you. I'll be 
as blind and mute as a dormouse. But I must go 
about my business. {JEJxit Belton) 

Lilian appears at the door and advances with a 
languid step; Lottie approaches her with an air of 
sympathy. 



L.IL.IAT^''S PROMISE. 49 

l^oT.— {aside) Poor young lady, how sick and pale 
she looks ! I wish I could do something for her. 

LiL,— Thank you, Lottie, I require nothing at 
present. 

JjOT.— (aside) One would almost believe she can 
read to the very bottom of one's heart, she is so 
sweet and good, (aloud) Miss Lilian, these packages 
have just arrived for Miss Florence, her wedding 
presents, I should judge, (she raises a round box) This 
one, from its shape and size, must be the bridal 
wreath. Oh! Miss Lilian, a bridal wreath is such a 
beautiful, delicate thing, (icUh a sigh J and only to 
be worn once in a life-time. How lovely it would 
look on your fair brow ! Will you not try it on ! 

LiL. — {an exj)ression of pain crosses Lilian's features; 
she speaJis almost angrily to Lottie) Eeplace the box, 
Lottie! You may leaye me ; I would be alone. 

Lot.— h hall I tell Miss Florence the boxes have 
arrived, and that you would like to see their con- 
tents ? And may I return, please Miss ! 

\jTL.— {smiling) Yes, Lottie, you may return. You^ 
curiosity is on the alert, I perceive, and will not be 
satisfied until you have examined the contents of all 
these boxes. 

Lot. — {delighted) Thank you. Miss Lilian^ T ^^\^^ 
run for Miss Florence. [Exit Lottie] 

IjIL. — [alone] Florence's bridal wreath! I wonder 
what it looks like? (laying her hand on the box) I do 
not think I have ever seen one. I m^ty indulge my 
curiosity for this time without reproach, for I shall 
never behold one again on this fair earth, [she taJces 
the tvreath from the box, holds it in her hand, and con- 
templates it with deep sadness] How lovelj' it is! So 
white, so delicate, so pure; no orange blossoms shall 
ever adorn my brow. I, too, had hopes and strange 
yearnings for love and happiness awakening within 
me, but they must be crushed forever in the silence 
of my own. soul, ^o e3^e, save one, [she raises h-r 
eyeu and hand to heaven] must know the love that fills 
my heart. I have struggled against it; I have re- 
pulsed, with disdain, the looks of ardent affection 



tliat luive soiiglit mine; I have met with cold reserve 
the impassioued avoids to which m3' own heart woukl 
have responded with tenderness and (h'votion : bnt 
the struggle is beyond my strength; I can no longer 
endure it. lean no longer conceal from myself thnt 
Gaston loves me. 'Tis no mere passing fancy', but a 
deep, imi>assion,ed love — a love that lills my heart 
^^ith joy unutterable, yet dri^T's me to despair. 
Straiige paradox of the human heart, where all the 
emotions are at variance. To-morrow is the day aj)- 
pointed for their nuptials, but not a word has been 
spoken by either of them on the sul)ject; both shrink 
from every allusion to it. Florence looks as if her 
heart was bi caking. I will no longer stand in the 
way of her happiness — I nuist go. But what i>retext 
can I find for leading the castle I My uncle seems 
to divine what is passing in my mind. He watches 
my every movement, he will scarcely allow me out 
of 1 is sight. Poor, dear nuclei what wdl become of 
him, deprived of his Lilian ! This thought rends my 
heart, and makes a coward of me. But I can delay 
no longer. To-morrow's sun must find me far beyond 
the wa^ls of Eockmonnt Castle —but whither shall I 
go! Heaven guide and i)rotect me! [she takes up 
the wreath, and gaze: on it sadly] Beautiful orange 
blossoms, to your white purity, emblem of tiuth and 
innocence, I will entrust my last farewell to my be- 
loved Florence; may you i^rove to her a tidisman 
of happiness and faithful love ; may your chaste lov- 
hness, you^^ sweet freshness, be only tarnished by 
kisses, never by tears ! Whisper to her when I am 
gone, that her i)oor lilian died in the first bloom 
of her youth, to fulfill her promise, to secuT^eher hap- 
pi'^ess. Audnow, sweet fiowers, farewell I farewell! 
Lilian presses the u 'ecilh to her lips; she then re- 
places it in the car ton. Enter Florenc, Lottie fol- 
loitlng; Florence has an air of listless indiffer- 
vncc ; sh • wallcs towards the sofa opposite Liliaji; 
Florence remains c>tanding, ivitli downcast eyes, as 
if lost in tlwiLght. 



Lot. — [e.vt iledly (joiyio towards the boxes and tovcMng 
them] Here tbey iVio^ Miss Floreiiee, shall I open tlieiii 
and show them to yon? 

Flo. — hcith a tone of indiffirciwc] Not now; I will. 
see them oye and bye. Yon may g'O. Lottie. [Loille 
J'ujf.rs) Did yon not hear me, Lottie? T said ycm 
might go. 

Lot. — Yes, Miss, but please, Miss Lilian said I 
I might staj^ and see the opening of the boxes. I do 
so hn^e to look at preiiy things. 

Flo. — Oh! that is diii^'erent if'?.Iiss Lilian said so. 
SaiJsiy yonv cniiosii^/, then leave the room. 

Lot. — [opening the boxes] Oh! Miss Fhn-enee, Miss 
Lilian, clo look! 1 never saw anything so sjdendid 
ininylife! diamonds; are they not? How tliey do 
gbiter! How lovel}' they will look on yonr white 
neck! You v, ill wear them to-moirow ^^lth this 
be:\util*ul bridal wreath, will you not, ]\Tiss Florence? 

Flo. — [starting vp a'^ irith a sudden pang] To-mor- 
row! My bridal wreath ! ! [turning t > Lottie] Leave 
those things; I w ill not see them now. 

Lot. — [iu a tone of vexation, aside] Did any one 
ever see such indifference f Wouldn't I love to show 
them around, if they were mine! Well, I declare I 
can not see bito it! This is more vexatious than 
ever ; but, you may dei)end upon it, I'll fei'ret it out. 
{Exit Loitie) 

Eater Lord JJcott u ItJi Gastoji; Lord ,/lleott seats 
liim'ielfnpar Lilian and takes her hand, iriili an 
expression of deep anxiety, as lie scans her loohs; 
Gadon pauses opposite Lilian, gazes at her for a 
moment, then breathes a sigh, and approa,elies 
Florence. 

Ld. a. — {^imth forced cheerfulness) My children, 
do you know that to-morrow is the 14th of Octol^er? 

Flo. — {with bitterness) I have not forgotten it, 
uncle. 

Ld. a. — This day lias CATr been a memorable one 
in the annals of our house. On this day, many cen- 
turies ago, one of our ancestors was knighted l)y our 



r>2 LII.IAM'8 PROMISE. 

sovereign's own hand, on the battle field. Another 
on the anniversary of this da^^ won glories that have 
shed a halo on onr escutcheon. The day has never 
since passed unnoticed by our family; and for ages 
past, some great and glorious event has always added 
new lustre to our name. In later years, we have 
maintained the go jd old custom by celebrating our 
marriages on this day, [turning to Gaston) and it has 
been my prayer, my son, to see you, like your fore- 
fathers, lead a lovely bride to the altar, on this glo- 
rious anniversary. And — a strange coincidence — it 
w as on the 14th of October that my darling child, my 
little Lilian was delivered to my care, and never 
sweeter ))lessing rested on the old mansion than 
when I accepted the i)recious charge. 

LiL. — (aside) Alas, dear uncle ! could he but know ! 

Ld. a. — (passing over to Florence and Gaston) For 
this reason, my dear son and my dear niece, I have 
indulged the hope that your union would take place 
on the eventful day. Am I to be disappointed? 
Tliere is no barrier between you: you have loved 
each other for years; why, then, posti)one the happi- 
ness that awaits you? Florence, have you anything 
to say.^ 

Flo. — (with much emotion) No, my uncle, I am 
ready to obey your wishes. 

Ld. a. — ^nd you, my son? 

Lilian leans forward, and seems to await anx- 
iously Gaston's reply. 

{h*,. — Father, do not question me. But I can not 
now unite my life to that of Florence. She is very 
dear to me, but it is too hurried for an event that is 
to shape all our future lives. We must first know 
our own hearts, and study each other's disposition. 
We have been separated so long. 

1^1.0.— (aside) The same sad, chilling words he 
spoke to me a month ago ! 

hiL.— (falling hack in her seat as if in despair; aside) 
Oh, tliere is no help! I must go! Poor dear uncle! 

Ld. a.— Well, my children, you know best, I sup- 
pose. Far be it from me to influence you, where the 



LILIAN'S PROMISE. 53 

happiness of your whole existence is at stake. It is a 
serious disapi)ointment to me, but I leave it to your 
own good sense to decide. (Lord Alcott returns to 
Lilian and draws her totvards him; they advance to- 
icards the front. 

Ld. a.— Well, my cherished one, a\ hat shall we do 
to celebrate the day! Shall we have a big hunt? a 
ball? anything you wish, only say the word, any 
amusement that will make you happy and once more 
dress your face in smiles. 

LiL.--Dear uncle, you are ever kind and thought- 
ful, (aside) Each word he utters cuts deep into my 
heart. What can I do ! [aloud] ]S"o hunt, no dan- 
cing. I am not well enough to make merry to-mor- 
row. We will enjoy ourselves in some more quiet 
way. 

Ld. a.— Whatever you will, my pet. [he gazes at her 
tvith great sadness] 

Pierre appeal's at the door. 

Pierre.— Tony Marsten, sir, is below, and would 
wish to see Miss Lilian for a moment, if agreeable. 

LiL.— I will see him immediately, [aside] This may 
prove the deliverance I was waiting for, and furnish 
the pretext for absenting myselt. 

Ld. a.— Tell the young man to come up. Miss 
Lilian will see him here. 

Pierre.— Yes, sir. [hoivs; exit] 

Ld. A.— Tony Marsten! I have a recollection of 
having heard that name before; have I not? Let 
me see. Is not this the fisherman's son, who lives 
about one mile from the castle at the extremity of 
our estate? 

LiL.— Yes, his mother. Mrs. Marsten is in very 
dehcate health. She sent me word some days ago 
that her little girl was very ill ; I hoi3e that Tony is 
not the bearer of worse tidings. 

Tony a]jpears at the door, bowing awkwardly and 
tivirling his hat. 

Ld. a.— Walk in, young man, and deliver your 
messaee. 



54 lilLIAN'S PROMISE. 

Tony.— Please, Miss, my little sister is very bad ; 
my mother thinks she wont get through the night. 
In her fever, she raves about you, Miss, and begs for 
you to come to her. Mother thought, if you would 
be so excessive kind, the sight of you might ease the 
child's suffering, and iDerhaiJS save her life. 
JjiL.— {with alacrity) Certainly 1 will go. 

She rings the hell, and Pierre appears. 
LiL.— (to Pierre) Tell Lottie to bring my hat and 
cloak. I shall not return to-night. (IJxit Pierre) 

Ld. a.— My child, I can not bear to have you ex- 
130se yourself this cold, blustering night. You are 
not well, and I fear the fatigue of watching will be 
too much for you. (Lilian makes a movement of expos- 
tulation) Well, if you feel that you must go, I will 
accompany you. Tony, tell the coachman to put the 
horses to the carriage immediately. You can go 
with us. 

Toi^Y.— [bowing] Thank you, sir. [Exit Tony] 
Enter Lottie with cloak and hood; she assists Lil- 
ian to put them on. 

'LiL.—[exultinglyj aside] Ha! My liberty at last! 
[goes toward Florence and Gaston, talces the hand of 
both and unites them, saying with tenderness] Florence! 
Gaston! be united — ^be hajipy! 

Lilian hurries off, and joining her uncle places 
her amn in his and draivs him quichly out of the 
room. Goston spHngs forward to the door with a 
louyd cry ' 'Lilian. " Florence sinks on a chair, bury- 
ing her face in her hands. 

Cuii^ain falls. 



LILIAN'S PROMISE. 55 



Scene and.— The river side, where small boats are nnoored; the boatnnan's 
cottage on one side; a large tree, around which is a rustic saat; the forest lies be- 
yond; a rustic bridge crosses the river. 

Wlxerv the curtain rises, Tony is seated in one of 
the boats drawn up on the shore, mending his nets; 
he sings cheerfully in a loud voice. Enter from the 
cottage Mrs. Marsten and Lilian. 

Mrs. M. — Miss Lilian, when you have breathed a 
little fresh air, do come in and take a few hours' rest. 
The sun is just rising, and it will be some time be- 
fore any one vAW come from the castle to fetch you. 

LiL. — I will return to you bye and bye. I will 
rest here awhile, beneath this old tree. I love dear- 
ly the fresh, dewy^, morning air. It will revive me, 
and give me new strength. The sun-rise and I are 
old friends. 

Mrs. M. — ^But how can I thank you as I ought, 
dear Miss, for your care and watchfulness all through 
the night of my little girl, who now seems quite out 
of danger. If ever a blessing will descend on your 
sweet, young head, Miss, it will be a mother's grati- 
tude for the life of the child you have saved! 

LiL. — Oh ! dear Mrs. Marsten, do not attribute to 
me any such power 5 our lives are in higher hands. 

Mrs. M. — Yes, surely, but if ever angel did come 
in human form to comfort us, you are one of them. 

LiL. — Say no more. I have really done nothing 
except to soothe the child, and tranquilize her nerv- 
ous irritability. 

Mrs. M. — Oh! yes, Miss, the moment you touched 
her hand and caressed her, the nervous twitchings 
ceased, and as you sang that soft lullaby, she fell 
asleep, and the fever left herj she is sleeping still. 

LiL. — Sleep was all she required. Do not disturb 
her. She will awake refreshed, and with careful 
tendance, she will in a few days be quite restored to 
health. 

Mrs. M.— May heaven bless yon for all your kind- 
ness! I will return to the bedside of my child, and 



56 lillilAN'S PROMISE. 

prepare the breakfast for my son. I hope you will 
take some refreslimeiit also, Miss, when it is ready. 

LiL-Tliaiik you, I may take a cup ofcoftee, later; 
I am not so inclined, at present. 

Mrs. M.--{Mrs. Marsten enters the cottage^ saying:) 
Well, Miss, I am just lieie inside; if you want any- 
thing, you must give me a call. [Exit Mrs. M.\ 

Lilian looks around on all sides; she does not 
perceive Tony, ivlio is now sleeping in the bottom of 
the boat. She throws her cloak on the bench under 
the tree, and seats herself. 

LiL.— Alone, at last ! How grateful to me is this 
solitude, this calm which j^ermits me to reflect upon 
the portentous step I contemj)late. For the first time 
in a long month, 1 am really alone. I need no lon- 
ger i)lace a mask upon my features, smile, and affect 
joy, while my sad heart is breaking. I need no lon- 
ger repress the burning tears that well uj) to my eyes 
in spite of all my efforts to restrain them. Nor need 
I tremble to give utterance to the thoughts, the feel- 
ings that inundate my soul with a sweet bitterness I 
can not define. Dear Gaston, how I love you ! De- 
spite my cold rejection of your tenderness, each word 
your dear lips liaA e uttered, has sunk deeply in my 
heart, and in that soil has taken root forever. Ah ! 
never again shall I hear those tones of love; never 
will he call mehis darling, Ms own) never shall his eyes 
seek mine with looks of unutterable affection. But 
I must not dwell upon these sad, sweet memories, 
this ardent longing for a bliss that might have beenx 
it would but serve to rend my bosom with regrets, 
and deprive me of my courage when I need it most. 
[she pauses] Ah, Gaston! Florence! you will never 
know how Lilian loved you ! What better i^roof can 
she give than the sacrifice of her young life, which 
she is about to offer up on the altar of your lia]3pi- 
ne?s! (she remains some moments as if lost in thought) 
All night long as I watched beside the sick child's 
bed, strange fancies haunted my brain. Phantoms 
seemed to entice, to lure me to my doom ; in vain I 



L.IIiIAi\'S PROMISE. 57 

tried to shake thein off; they would not be dispelled 
Tlieu 1 recalled a sad tale that Florence and 1 had 
read together about a year ago. It was the story of 
a i)oor girl who had bestowed all the Avealth of her 
young lieart upon a worthless lover who deserted 
her and left her with none to comfort her. In the 
frenzy of her despair, she llung herself into an empty 
bark, unloosed it from its moorings, and drifted out 
to sea, beyond the reach of all assistance. And all 
night loug I have seen this pallid spectre, and she 
beckoned me to follow her. I pressed my trembling- 
hand to my eyes to shut out the vision, and Avhen J 
looked again, it seemed mysel/y my very *•<?//* floating 
onwards, onwards to the foaming billows. And 
thus the night winds whispered ''thus only can you 
save the loved ones." [she rises and paces to and fro 
along the shore, then approaches a boat drawn up on the 
sands; Tony springs up; she starts back in staprise] 
Is that you, Tony ? How you startled me ! VN^ere 
you sleeping in the boatf 

Tony. — Yes, Miss, I nuist av fell asleep over my 
nets that I was a mending. The night were a wake- 
ful one for us all. Can 1 do anything for you, ^liss? 

LiL. — No, thank you. Is this the boat you go out 
fishing in.^ 

Tony. — No, Miss. That old boat has done good 
service. It belonged to my father. I keei^ it as a 
sort of remembrance of him ; but it is no longer of 
any use ; it is full of leaks. I might have patched it 
up, if this river warn't so treachersome. There's a 
Ijretty strong cuirent just beyont, and it takes a good 
strong boat to stem it, that is to sa^^, in stormy 
weather. No, Miss, my boat for fishing is moored 
over there, {pointing) A safer boat never floated. 
Any fine day you would like to take a row, Miss, I 
shall be proud to serve you. 

LiL. — Thank you, Tony. Are the fish plentiful in 
this river? I)o you make a good living by your 
nets '? 

Tony. — Well, yes, Miss Lilian, I does pretty well; 
we gets along well enough, but you see my hambi- 



58 lillilAlV'S PROMISE. 

tion has been to buy this cottage that we liv^es in, so 
that my mother and little sister might be sure of a 
home, in ease anything hapning to me; but some- 
hows, work hard as I will, early and late, I does not 
seem to get ahead any. ISiekness will come and take 
all our poor earnings : and that's how it is. 

LiL. — It is indeed hard that such a praiseworthy 
ambition should not be rewarded. Oh! an idea 
strikes me! Have you a pencil and paper? 

Tony. — Yes, Miss, I always carries theui with me 
to take down the orders 1 receives for tish. I seldom 
trusts to my memory: I can not alford to forget, {he 
draivH a pencil and small sheet of paper from his pocket 
and hands to Lilian) 

LiL — [seats herself on a roclc and writes^ reading 
aloud as she proceeds:) 
Dear Uncle, 

On receipt of this, please make over 
to Tony Marsten, by a deed of gift, the property 
he now rents from you. Do this, dear uncle, for the 
sake of your poor 

Lilian. 

Thus will Tony's ambition be accomi)lislied, and I 
will secure the happiness of this deserxing family. I 
am thankful for this opportunity of doing a good act 
before I die. {aloud) Tony, take this letter, keep it 
safely for a week, then carry it to my uncle and await 
his answer. Do you understand f [she folds the paper 
and hands it to Tony] 

XoN Y. — Oh ! yes. Miss, I will hand it to Lord Al- 
cott in one week's time. 

LiL. — {aside) How shall I get him away from 
here, [alond] Tony, you had better put the letter at 
once in some place of security, as it contains matter 
of great importance. 

Tony. — I'll go right straight away, and lock it up 
in my chest. 

LiL. — And Ton}^, had you not better remain and 
assist your mother in preparing the morning meal? 
She is well nigh exhausted with her anxieties and 
long watchings ; she will be glad of your help. 



LilLrlAlV'S PROMISE. 

Tony. — You are right, Miss, I'll go at ouee. 

■A sJwtfrom a gun is heard. Tony stops to Ijsic..^ 

LiL.— What is that, Tony? 

Tony. — It must be Mr. Gastou, I think. He i> - 
a early hunter and often couies this way in his m 
ing walks with his gun on his shoulder. He bees ii 
proud at all, as most of them great rieh lords be; 
will sit down here and chat with me as he used lu ,. ' 
with my father, before he went abroad. He says . 
father taught him his first lessons in hunting wac"; 
he was a mere lad. 

LiL. — {aside., with nervous excitement) Gaston mu. 
not find me here, nor must he himself remain, {alou 
Tony, wait; I will g( to your mother. You go u. 
meet Mr. baston, and accompany him on his hi.: 
for a while — do anything, but do not let him rema. 
here, and do not speak of me ! 

Tony. — I will do anything you wish. Miss Lilia; 
anything to give you i)leasure. 

Lilian enters the cottage. Gaston erjsses tli 
bridge and advances; he meets Tony. 

Gas. — Good morning, Tony, how :s the child ? 

Tony. -Thsiuk 3 on, Mr. Gaston, much better, t,.. 
We feel as if Miss Lilian's care had saved her, Lt . 
she wont have us say so. 

Gas. -Bless her kind heart! [a.side] I hoped i 
catch a glimpse of her this morning, but she axD.u 
me as usual, [aloud] How did Miss Lilian seem to b 
this morning; she w^as not well last evening; na>. 
you seen her yetf 

Tony.— Ohl yes sir, she look very pale, sir, for sii. 
tooked no rest all nigiit. 

Gas.— Hsis she not been out of the house this morh 
ing? 

Tony.— Yes, sir, she came out to breathe the fres;. 
morning air, just at day-break. She said i -it u 
vived her, yes! that is what she said. She was sil- 
ting under that tree yonder for nearly an hour. 

^a.s'.— Did she si>eak with you? 

Tony.— Only a few words sir. She looked wearied 
and sad as if she had some great sorrow which siie 



60 I.IL.IA]\['8 PROMISE. 

wished no one to see. Wlien I thinks ot her as she 
used to he, this very spring; she was as joyfulsome 
as the birds, always singin*^ and laugliing. 

Gai.--Cou\d I not see her for a moment'? Will she 
not come out, Tony f 

Tony.—^o, sir, I thinks not. I believe she is gone 
to lie down; she needs rest. I never saw one more 
changed 1 have watched her closely since she corned 
here last evening. J have felt as if something terri- 
ble was hanging over her. 

Gas. -{grasping Tony\s ar?)}) I, too, have experi- 
enced the same unaccountable dread. We will be 
two to guard her from harm. You will assist me, 
Tony, to watch over her? 

To7iy.-- Aye, that 1 will, sir. Lord Alcott will soon 
be here to take her home, I spose; he said he would 
be early, when he left Miss Lilian here last evening. 
But she do not wish your presence here, Mr. (xaston, 
she told me to make you go away, immediately; she 
even wished me to go with you on your hunt. I will 
go and fetch my gun. 

Gas.—{lool's aronndy espies LiU an' s cloal'; he raise) 
it tvith \endernessj and presses it to his lips, suying:) 
Her cloak! which enwraps her chaste and del.cate 
form ! {he gently lays it down as To7iy enters, his gw]i 
on his shoulder) 

Tony.—l am ready, now, sir. 

They cross the bridge; as they disappear, Lilian 
comes from the cottage; she looks cautiously 

around. 

X//. -They are gone! There's no time to be lost. 
Imust be quick ; they may return, [she hastens to the 
old boat, and tries to unloo;en the fastenings.] Ah! 
how hard these knots are tied! I never shall be ablie 
to undo them! What shall I do!! Oh, how my poor 
lingers ache ! [she earches in the boat and finds a 
large pocket-knife ', exclaims:] Tony's knife! How prov- 
idential ! Heaven surely approves the act and thus 
comes to aid me. I can cut these ropes though I 
could not unfasten them! [i^he works tvith energy, and 
at last exclaims:] The knots are all unfastened, th.e 



boat IS free! [she pushes the ooatj and it glides down to 
the ?ratc}\j then she springs UgJitlt/ into itj s'jizes the oar^ 
and plushes off; she raises her eyes and one hand to 
heaven saying :\ Farewell, bright v/orld! Farewell to 
all 1 love on eartlil FareweH, (xaston! My usicie j 
Florence I Farewell^ Farewell! 

Th£> hoat disappears, Tony re-Q liters from the for- 
est. 

ToNY.-T left Mr. Gaston in tlie woods and did not 
care to follow Mm. Something seemed to pnll nie 
back to tbis spot. I can not understand what make 
me feel so queer. I never feel so before. How very 
strange! I feel as if soioetliing dreadful was going 
to hax>pen! [Tony goes t>o the cottage door and ealls:] 
Motlier, is Miss Lilian up there witli youf [aside] Mr. 
Gaston say I must watch her! 

IMes. M. — [opening a 'window above) No, my son, 
Miss Lilian went out a short time ago. I feel quite 
won led about the dear young lady. I could not per- 
suade her to take any breakfast. She said that all 
she needed was quiet and fresh air. She must be 
around here somevv^here; she would not think of 
walking home, as she expects her uncle. 

Tojiy loohing around' on every side, suddenly 
misses ths- hoat; he 7%tshes to th^e water's edge. 

Tony.— Great God! v^^here is the boat/ The boat 
has gone.' and she is in it/ [afeehle cry is heard in 
the distance] That cry / it is her voice / 1 may yet be 
in time to save her. 

Mrs, M. — [rushing ou:) What is the matter? where 
are you going. ^ 

Tony. — Do not bold me mother, do not stop me. 
The dear young lady is drown ding, and I will save 
her or die with her ! Let me go ! let me go ! On your 
knees, mother, pray for us. 

Tomj hastily unmoors a toat, and rows away rap- 
idly. 

Mrs. M. — [on her hices] 01i!myGod/ Save my 
son! save them both/ [she sol^s aloud^ burying her face 
in her hand':) 



02 lill^IAM'S FII€>MI8E. 

Gastoji enters, goes up to Mrs. Marsten, and at- 
tempts to raise her. 

Gas. — What lias happened, Mrs. Margery! Why 
these sobs, why these tears ? Is your child worse? 

Mrs. M. — [choked irith sohs] Oh ! Miss Lilian I poor 
dear Miss Lilian ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! 

Gas. — [fraiitic\ What ahout Miss Lilian? what has 
happened to her '^ Speak, woman! are you resolved 
to drive jne mad? 

Mrs. M.— Oh ! the dear young lady has gone and 
drownded herself! and Tony has gone to save her, or 
dieAvithher! We may never see either of them 
again, [sohbing] 

Qas. — [ivith icild despair] Oh, my God! my God! 
If e rushes toward the river asifahout to plunge 
in, then suddenly stops aghast, pointing to an ob- 
ject beyond. Mrs. Marsten follows him, clasping 
her hands Tony approaches, heaHng the lifeless 
body of Lilian. Mrs. Marsten snatches the cloak 
from- the bench and covers her. Tony lays Lilian 
(^f^.ntly d,own on the sand. Gaston kneels beside her, 
lakes her liand, and kisses it passionately. Mrs. 
Marsten also kneels and sustains her. 

Gas. — She can not be dead, I'll not believe it.' Fate 
rould not deal me such a blow. Go, Tony, fly for 
f\n^. doctor ; life is not extinct, {lie applies his fingers 
to tliepuhe) There surely is a ftxint movement, is 
there not, Mrs. Marsten ? My own hands are so trem- 
inous that I distrust my judgment, {he places his 
hand upon her heart) Yes, yes! I can not be mistaken; 
there is a fluttering here. I knew she could not be 
dead. 

Mrs. :J.--Yes, I thiidv there is hope. The beats 
are stronger, now; life is gradually returning. See, 
a shudder passes through her frame. 

Gas.— Thank God/ Oh, thank God/ she is saved ! 
How was it, Tony, did the boat capsize? 

ToNY.--Oh/ no, sir ; th.e good old boat could not 
capsize. It was old and leaky, and so I tell Miss 
LiUan. It hold out better nor I expected it would. 
The current was so strong, and carried it a good dis- 



taiice. It must have been filling \yitli ^vater and 
sinking, when tlie yonng lady gave that terrible 
scream tliat called me to her assistance. The water 
was most a covering liar, and she must have fainted 
with the fright. In another moment she w^ould have 
dro winded. 

Gas.— When the poor child saw that death was in- 
evitable, her young life rebelled at the sacrilege. 

Tony.— Never can I forget Avhat I felt when I saw 
lier, as I thought, without life in the boat, and 
knewed that the w^ater would soon be over lier. I 
feared I would not reach in time to save her, and 
just as I reached her, the old boat gave a swirl, and 
down she went. Mr. Gaston, she opens her eves. 

DuHng this time, Gaston Juts raised her head on 
his knee, still chafing and hissing her hands, and 
uttering endearing names. Lilian gradually re- 
turns to consciousness, and gazes around her. 

LiL.— Help/ lielp/ the boat is sinking/ Oh, I die ! 
Gaston, save me/ save me/ 

Gas.— My beloved/ I am here/ Do you not know 
me ! You are safe in my loving arms/ Only look at 
me, darling/ Love and joy await ycuj speak to me, 
Lih«n, my sjveet one/ 

j\lRt^.. M, — She still fancies herself in the boat; the 
shock and fright have been too much for her. Poor 
deary(U])g lady, she is so sensitive and delicate! 
See, her wihl, strange look is x>^ssing away; she is 
returniog to consciousness. Speak to her again, 
^Ir. Gaston, the sound of your voice will revive her 
more than all else. 

Gas. — Lilian, my darling, look at me/ your Gas- 
ton/ speak to me/ (Lilian looJcs at him, utters a cry 
of joy ^ and clasps Mm around the necl\) My Lilian, my 
own/ 

-A confusion of voices is heard approaching, fil- 
ter Lord Alcott, Plorence, Belton, Lottie and Pierre. 

Ld. a. — [rushing frantically toward Lilian) My 
Lilian/ my child/ where is my darling? 

Tony. — {making icay for Lord Alcott) She is here, 
my lord, she is safe. The dangei is past. 



Gaston and Florence raise Lilian tonderly, while 
Margery brings a chair from the house; they place 

her in it-. 

|7j[^o, — {ivhispering to Lilian) Sly poor daiiing/ I 
see tlirougli it all 'Twas done ibr love of him, was 
it not ? 

LiL. — Forgive- me^ Florence. I could not help it^ 
and 1 saw no other way to keep the promise I had 
made to you. 

Flo. — When I exacted that promise, Lilian, I nev- 
er dreamed that it would entail ui)on yon snch a fa- 
tal sacrifice. Why did you not open your heart to 
me, and frankly own your love for himf 

IjIL. — Would you have renounced him for my sake, 
Florence, you who loved liim with such jealous de- 
votion? 

Flo. — You should have known my proud nature 
better tliaji to suppose that I would accept a hand 
without the heart's accompanying it. I now know 
Oastoh's heart, and I resign him. Be you his happy 
bride. I renounce my claim forever. [Gaston seizes 
the hand of Florence and kisses it] 

LiL.— Dear, dear Florence.' 

Ld. A.— What does ail this mystery signify? I 
can not comprehend a Vv^ord of it, nor hov/ the sad 
accident occurred, that came so near depriving me 
of my darling child ? Will some one tell me what it 
means? 

Gas.— Not noYv^, dear father, Lilian is too weak to 
talk much ; at some other moment, she will tell you 
all. [aside] He must never learn the truth, it would 
kill kim. 

Lilian leaning on Mrs. Marsten's ann, enters the 
cottage. Enter Sir AHhiir and Lord Ernest. 

Sir. a.— The news of a terrible calamity has just 
reached our ears, and we have come in all haste to 
inquire into the truth of the statement. 

Ld. a. — A terrible accident, indeed, but thanks to 
the energy and courage of this young man, (pointirig 
to Tony) our darling is restored to us, and in our joy 
we had almost forgotten to express our gratitude. 



lillilAN'S PROMISE. 65 

(Tony turns to enter the cottage; hord Alcott stops him, 
saying:) Come here, young man. (Tony advances 
modestly; luord Alcott extends his hand to him an I n- 
tains it J Tony, no words can express my gratiti «^[t , 
but from this day forward, I shall ever consider yovi 
as having saved the life of my child. If there i^> <^ny 
wish of your heart that it is in my jjower to gratify, 
speak; I can refuse you nothing. 

Tony.— No, my lord. Miss Lilian she saved my lit 
tie sister's life; I have saved hern. She has long- 
been the guardian angel of our home. I could take 
no thanks for doing my duty. 

Lilian re-enters, having cluinged her wet dress 
for a simple one. 

Gas.- -Lilian has truly said as noble a heart beats 
under this rough exterior, as can be found m the 
highest stations of life. So modest withal. (Tony 
retiring) 

LiL.— Stay, Tony, where is the letter I gave you ? 

Tony.— I have it here. Miss, (offering it to her) 

LiL.— Deliver it, yourself, to my uncle, to whom it 
is addressed. [Tony hands the letter to hord Alcott, 
who opens it, and reads it to himself] 

Ld. a.— It gives me great pleasure to comply with 
my darling's wishes, and to i)rove my gratitude to 
this worthy youth. Tony, Miss Lilian desires me to 
bestow upon you this cottage in which you were born, 
with the ten acres ot land surrounding it. It is 
yours, my good fellow, and as long as Lord Alcott 
lives, you shall never want a friend. 

Tony.— My lord! Miss Lilian! This is too much ! 
How can I thank you ! Let me call my mother. 

Ld. a. — Ko need of thanks, my lad. I hope you 
and your good mother may long live to enjoy your 
prosperity. 

Gas. — I, too, father, have a favor to ask of you, if 
Lilian will consent. This day has been marked out 
by you, for another joyous anniversary. A marriage 
was to have taken place, and the postponement of it 
was a great disappointment to you. 



66 LILIAIV'S PROmSE. 

Ld. a. — Aye, a verj^ great oue, indeed, my son. 

Uas. — Well, father, suppose I revoke my decision 
and say : Let the preparations proceed, the wedding- 
shall still take place, and once more on the 14th of 
October the old halls shall ring with sounds of festiv- 
ity and gladness: 

Ld. A. — Are you in earnest, Gaston! This is no 
subject for jesting. My heart would truly rejoice in 
such an event. 

Gas. — [takes Lilian by the hand, encircling her icaist 
frith his arm and leads her toicard his father] And 
here, father, is my darling bride ! 

Sir Arthur and Lord Ernest come fomuard from 
the rear, exclahning: 

Both — How ! Lilian ! not Florence ! 

Ld. a. — Lilian! What means this mystification, 
Gaston, I thought Florence was your destined bride ! 

Flo. — Be not discomi)osed, dear uncle, all will be 
satisfactorily explained. Mj hand is pledged to — 
[she looks toicard /Sir Arthur, ivho springs f or icard, talces 
her hand and kisses it] 

Sir a. -I trust. Lord Alcott. you will not withhold 
your consent to our union. I am x^roud and happy 
to become a member of your family. 

Ld. A. -You have my hearty consent, my friend, 
but I can not understand this substitution, it confuses 
my brain. It is dazed, bewildered ; decidedly these 
young ])eople are too much for me. I am getting 
old: my intelligence is at fault, [to Lilian] Lilian, 
my little girl, do you love your Cousin Gaston ! [she 
hides her face on hord Alcotfs bosom] You little trai- 
toress! I thought you Avere never going to love any 
one besides your poor old uncle. Well, I suppose I 
must not be selfish. I must consent to share my 
treasure with my son. 1 can not give her up en- 
tirely. 

LiL. -Dear uncle, I will never leave you! 

Ld. a. -Humi^h ! Trust again to young i^eople's 
promises ! 'Til never love any man but you, dear un- 
cle,^'' {mimicMng Lilian. Lilian and Gaston laugh) 



lilLIAlV'S PROMISE. 67 

Sir. a. — {to Florence) Florence, since vou have at 
length consented to be mine, will you ngt crown my 
happiness by allowing the celebration of a second 
marriage on this joyful anniversary? 

Flo. — Patience, Sir Arthur, you must allow me 
time to forget, 

Ld. E. — Here I am again out in the cold ! Who, 
in the name of all that is most wonderful, could have 
imagined such a winding up of the family drama ! 
I do not really know whether I stand on my head 
or my heels. Only last evening Sir Arthur and I 
had laid all our plans for a fishing and hunting ex- 
cursion in N( rway, you know, and now, whew ! he'll 
be only fishing for compliments to pay his lady-love, 
or hunting up the shortest road to the hymeneal 
temple. What is to become of me? Whom shall I 
marry! There's Miss Elmwood, she would have me 
quick enough, you know, but she is four or five years 
my senior, and all the powder and rouge fail to re- 
store the Ijloom of youth. She has a splendid figure 
on horseback, seen in perspective. 1 might manage 
to ride a few paces in the rear, jou know, and so 
keep up the illusion. But I should be mistaken for 
her groom; and then, on rainy days, we could not 
hunt, {he makes a icry face) No, no, that wont do. I 
must renounce all thoughts of marriage. My spirits 
are rather low. I think I'll try chang-e of scene. I'll 
be oft* for the continent. 

\iOT.—[sa\wUy, aside] God speed you, sir. (laugh- 
ing; she falls back to the side of Pierre, ivho places her 
arm in his) 

Florence with her aim around Lilian, walks for- 
ward and faces tJie audience. 

Flo. — Do you not feel, dear cousin, as if something 
was still lacking to oiu' entire satisfaction on this oc- 
casion! Lilian's fidelity to her promise should sure- 
ly meet with the appprobation of all our friends here 
present. Will they not give it us ? that this may 
truly be styled another bright, eventful anniversary, 
to be indelibly written in the annals of Eockmount 



68 lillilAlV'S PROMISE. 

Castle, and tliat its old walls may once more re- 
sound with Ideals of satisfactiou and joy! 

Gaston covxes forward and tahes the hand of Lil- 
ian, Sir Arthur that of Florence ; all group around 
andfonn a tableau. 

LiL. — {gazes first at Gastofi, then at the audience^ 
and exclaims:) Oil! I am so happy! 

The curtain falls. 



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